


Give No Quarter

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, pirate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2018-11-12 10:44:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 34
Words: 44,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11160261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: A Hobbit-Pirate AU which followers the castaway reader and her struggle to survive.





	1. In the Water

Your bones were so cold they felt as if they would shatter. The frigid water soaked through your clothes and flesh as you clung to the splintered slab of wood. Slivers had embedded in your hands as you clawed desperately at the makeshift raft, making your plight even more painful, and your froze fingers could barely cling to the board.

Your teeth chattered in the damp fog as you floated among the wreckage of your former ship. The sky was a full gray and growing darker by the moment as your body grew closer to hypothermia. You knew you were going to freeze to death among the depths and yet what else could you do as you drifted along?

You closed your eyes as another shiver overtook you and the wood nearly tipped over with your rattles. It had done so several times before and the last teeter had almost seen you drowning within the dark waves. You kicked your feet as you kept your eyes clamped shut, your legs heavy with numbness, and you knew you had little time left before the depths swallowed you.

You listened to the water and clatter of the shrapnel around you as you let darkness shroud your mind. You thought of the family you had left behind so long ago and the journey which had brought you to such a desolate end.

The sound of wood against wood jolted you but you told yourself it was merely the scraps floating around you. Another grind came, this one louder and followed by the noise of something large pushing through the water. You forced your eyes open and turned your heavy head as your teeth chattered ever more furiously.

A dark ship was sailing towards you and the sight of its black mast and folded sails had your heart in your throat. The vessel was moving slowly under its unsheathed sails and you could not see what emblem was sewn upon its flag. This could be a worse enemy than that which had left you in such a predicament. _Or they could be your last hope for survival._

You shifted atop the wood, once more kicking your legs against the water. Your hair hung heavy across your face, no longer held back by its tie and the hat you had lost to the depths. You raised your head, breathing in through your cold-ravaged lungs.

“Help!” You failed to produce the yell you had intended and so drew a deeper breath, "HELP!”

You looked to the ship and spied no sight of movement or change in the great beast. You sighed helplessly as you wobbled once more atop the plank and the cold water splashed around you.

“PLEASE! HELP!” You shouted desperately, your voice almost shrill, “HELP!”

You glanced over again and saw the first sign of life aboard the dark ship. You could hear distant yelling as you spotted figures looking over the rail. Slowly, the ship turned as its oars began to work and you hoped this was not to be your final mistake.

The ship began to close in as you took in its towering form, able to discern it clearly as it neared through the thick fog. The front was headed by a wrought silver statue of a fearsome man with sword held high. Along the side of the ship, faded letters read “Thrain’s Fury” and the name was more than enough to foretell your fate. 

You groaned and dropped your head, forsaking yourself to what you had already braced for. It was just like you to flag down a pirate ship for help when another had only just left you for dead.

You would have cried if your tears were not as frozen as the rest of you. Instead, you merely shivered atop your float and waited for your demise. You could not decide if it were better to let yourself sink into the black waters or to be plucked up by the pirates who would likely send you right back to the waves.

A weight hit the plank beside you and you flinched amidst your trembling against the sudden impact. It moved subtly, rubbing against your arm, though you could not feel much for the numbness setting in. You cautiously lifted your head and looked to the bottom of the rope ladder beside you.

“Oi, ye gon’ climb up or ye’ gon’ drown?” A man called and you glance up at the massive ship.

“That or freeze,” Another intoned as he looked over the rail as well.

“Ye best grab that ‘fore yer swept away,” The first intoned as he stared down at you.

You shakily raised your arm and latched your fingers around the bottom rung, the rough rope adding to the pain of the slivers buried in your hands. You grabbed on with your other, dragging yourself across the raft as you willed yourself forward. A few more minutes and you would not have been able to move.

You used the second rung to pull yourself up, the wood below your feet nearly tipping. You hooked your foot onto the first rung and lifted yourself painfully. Your jacket hung heavy from your shoulders as the the water dripped steadily from the sodden tails.

You climbed further, grunting agonizingly with every move and you were barely halfway up when you felt as if you could not make it to the top. You were certain your muscles would give out and you would find yourself plummeting into the depths. You paused at the third to last rung, breathing raggedly through your frozen lungs. You could not go any further as your body trembled with pain and cold.

The ladder jolted upward and you nearly lost your grip as your were lifted further. You were dragged up and over the rail before you crashed down on the deck in a shivering mess. You laid half-tangled in the ladder as you heaved and trembled upon the musty planks. You crossed your numbing arms over your frigid chest and looked around wearily.

Your vision slowly cleared as your teeth chattered violently and you found two men looking back at you. One had braided pig-tails on either side of his head beneath a rather gaudy hat and the other an intricately braided mustache to match his thick golden hair. You heard footsteps pounding across the deck towards you and more of the eccentric pirates appeared above you. A rather gruff looking bald man pushed his way to the front and glared down at you, sharply toeing your shoulder.

“Who are ye?” He demanded as your arm tingled from the prod.

“I-I-I…” You could barely talk for your shivering.

“She is just a small thing,” The eldest of the dozen intoned, “And she is near to frozen. Her skin is turning blue.”

“She?” Another with wild hair leaned closer as he examined you over his thin nose, “Well, I’ll be.”

“Why is she dressed like that?” One of the younger men with dark hair asked from beside the blond.

“Oi, you don’t ask a lady why she wears what she does,” The golden-haired man elbowed his companion, “It’s not proper.”

“Ughh,” You shivered, unable to form words with your frozen tongue.

“Someone get her a blanket,” The white-haired elder ordered as he gave you a sympathetic smile, “If you wanted her to freeze to death, you’d be better to leave her in the water.”

“What is–” A deep voice sounded from outside the cluster of men and yet another crewmate shoved through to stop before you, “And what exactly is this?”

“She was down there,” The pig-tailed man answered, “Floatin’ 'mong the wreck.”

“You are suppose to collect gold and the like,” The black-haired man growled, “Not…half-dead corpses.”

“We couldn’t leave her down there, Captain,” The blond argued as a smaller man with orange hair spread a ragged blanket across you.

“Hmmp,” He narrowed his eyes at you and you clung to the tattered cover, “And what pray are we to do with her?”

“Warm her up, in the very least,” The pig-tailed one offered.

“Women have no place on a ship,” The bald-headed man countered gruffly as he crossed his thick arms.

“Namely this one,” The captain glared down at you once more, “She must be full of deceit dressed so.”

“N-no,” You forced through your chattering teeth, “I-i-it was the o-only w-w-w-way.”

“Only way?” A gray-haired man gave you a suspicious growl.

“T-to travel,” You answered, “P-p-please, I had to.”

“You didn’t have to do anything,” The captain returned fiercely, “You should have stayed where you belong and kept to your skirts. Perhaps, then you would not find yourself stranded in the water.”

“Thorin,” The elder reproached, “That is not fair.”

“She is only a girl,” The young brunette intoned.

“Exactly,” The captain crossed his arms, “A girl who shouldn’t be dressed as a boy.”

“So c-cold,” You uttered as you pulled the blanket tight, you would have argued further but you could not think past the chill in your bones, “Uf-f-f-f-f,” You chattered horribly.

“Search her,” The captain ordered as he nudged you with his boot, “And take her to the galley.”

“N-n-no,” You protested pathetically through your trembling, “You’d b-b-be better off t-to thro-o-ow me back in the w-w-water.”

The rest of the men stared at you before looking back to their captain anxiously, an uneasy silence thickening the cold air.

“Surely you take orders from your captain before this measly creature,” He sent a pointed look your way, “Do as I say or she will not be the only one in a cell.”

“Ye heard him,” The bald one growled as he knelt to rip the blanket from you and you fought only a moment before he wrenched it from your hands.

The thick armed man pulled you up as easily as he had the blanket, lifting you by the collar of your jacket. You were nearly on your toes as he held you aloft and another man searched you roughly. The red-haired man who did so ripped free your sword and dagger, and the pistol you kept upon your other hip. He grazed your arms and legs, pulling free the set of blades you had strapped upon your person. He reached your feet and found the small knives you kept hidden in both boots and you were finally completely unarmed.

“My God, she has even more blades than you,” The young brunette elbowed the blond with a chuckle.

You were released by the bald dwarf and shook on your feet as you shivered against the chill wind which rose across the deck. You could barely support yourself upon your numbed legs and watched as the white-haired man retrieved the blanket from the floor. He wrapped it kindly around your shoulders and you nodded your gratitude to him, though you braced yourself for it to be ripped away once more.

“Kili, Fili,” He turned to the young blond and brunette who still stood shoulder to shoulder, “Take her to a cell…and be kind.”

“Hmmp,” The captain grunted at the older man but said nothing more as he turned away.

The younger men moved to your sides as they grabbed your elbows, motioning you forward. They led you past the rest of the men who merely stared back with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. You held onto the edge of the blanket, your soaked clothing weighing down your every step.

“Real sorry about this,” The blond one said as he let go bent to lift the door to a set of dark steps which led below deck, “But we’ve got to follow captain’s orders.”

“That we do,” The brunette grinned ruefully as he ushered you down, “You’re only lucky he didn’t insist on throwing you back.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader finds herself trapped.

You sat in the musty cell huddled under the tattered blanket. Your clothes were still damp and your skin frigid. You could not imagine yourself being warm ever again…or free. Sitting behind bars, you could see the rest of your dark life stretched before you. Years passing as you stared at the wooden planks, your vision rocked with the tides of the sea.

A sudden creak brought your head up and footsteps followed as someone descended the stairs just outside the galley. You frowned as you sunk deeper below the blanket and hoped the captain was not sending the crew to drag you to the plank. Instead, the elderly man appeared in the doorway and walked with purpose to the bars of your cell, his arms cradling a bundle of dull wool.

“I must apologize, my dear,” He stopped just outside the door, “But it must be so…for now.”

“Mmmp,” You could think of nothing to say as another chill rattled your body.

“I’ve brought you these,” He raised the clothing in his arms, “You will not last much longer in those sodden clothes.”

“Th-thanks,” You stuttered though you could not but resent being trapped so.

“It will have to do,” He offered as he slid the garments through the bars, “And I’ll have some food sent down when I can.”

You grimaced as you neared and took the clothing, no words arising in your mind at the small act of kindness. He gave an apologetic look but it did little to make up for your predicament. All you could feel towards the motley crew of criminals was resent.

“Well…” He stepped back as he watched you look over the clothing, “My name is Balin and if you need anything, I will try to do what I can for you.”

“I could use a key,” You kidded with a sneer, “Or perhaps a pistol.”

“I am afraid I cannot help there,” He gave a pitiful smile, “And your name, dear?”

“It’s not ‘dear’,” You returned, the remark more venomous than you had intended, “…It’s [Y/N].”

“[Y/N],” He repeated as his smile returned; it had been a long time since you had used your real name, “It’s a nice name.”

“Hmm, I suppose,” You shrugged at the compliment, “Little good it does me down here.”

“Well, then I should leave you to your brooding,” He gave a quirk of his lips under his white beard, “Besides, they’ll be looking for me before long.”

He sent you one last compassionate look before slowly turning away and shuffling to the doorway as if reluctant to do so. You hugged the clothing to your chest as you watched him go and were at least thankful for the little he had given you. It would have to do for the time being and it was not as if you were going anywhere any time soon.

 

You did not know how you had fallen asleep but it was far from a cozy slumber as you curled up on the damp wood, shielded by the thin blanket. The only solace you could take was that you had been gifted the dry clothes, even if they were rather baggy. Your boots were in the corner drying and so all you had were the patchy stockings provided by Balin. Your shoulders were cramped and the rest of your body stiff from the chill air and the hard floor.

You opened your eyes to the dim of the galley, your cramped cell seemed darker than the rest. A figure stood on the other side of the bars though you did not notice it for a moment as your vision cleared. You sat up abruptly, pushing yourself against the far wall as the man brought forward a small lantern, a pitiful glow in the grim galley.

“Oi, my apologies, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” The golden-haired man said, “Balin said you’d be hungry.”

“Oh…” You let go of the blanket clutched in your death grip as a pathetic shield, “I, uh…”

“Which means,” He began as he hung the lantern on a hook, his voice overtaking the strained silence as he turned back to you and you saw the bowl in his hand, “You cannot try anything when I open this up.” He unchained the ring from his leather belt with a jangle and shoved one of the dark iron keys into the door, “Or you’ll stay hungry. Understand?”

“Mmm,” You stood, remaining pressed against the wall as he pulled open your cell, “I promise, I won’t.”

“Here,” He held out the bowl to you kindly, “I know it’s not much.”

“No, it’s enough,” You said, taking his offering meekly, “Thank you.”

“If the captain had his way, you’d have nothing at all,” He replied, “He’s a stubborn man…sorry, you’ll be hoping to be free of this cell one day and here I am, crushing all your dreams.”

“I never expected to get out of the water,” You mumbled as you cradled the bowl, “So I should be happy to merely be dry.”

Heavy footsteps sounded from the stairs, keeping the golden-haired man from answering as his mouth hung half-open with intent. He looked nervously to the doorway before returning his bright eyes to you, the worry seeping through his cheery features.

“Speak of the devil,” He frowned anxiously as he backed out of the cell, “I swear, he knows whenever one mentions his very existence.”

As you followed his gaze to the door, the grim-faced captain strode through it, his steps foretold of his natural wrath. You knew little of the man but you could tell from the way in which his face creased constantly that he was a rather gray-spirited character. You could not figure why you had flagged down the ship, you should have known it was much too late in your life for your fortune to change.

“Fili,” The captain’s deep voice added to the darkness of the galley, “What are you doing down here?”

“Um,” The crew mate, Fili, looked to his leader fearfully, “Balin told me to bring her some food.”

“Hmm,” The captain’s steps were like thunder as he neared the cell, his hand gripping the open door, “You could do so without leaving the door wide open.”

He slammed the door swiftly with little effort and both you and the blond pirate flinched at the loud clang. You tightened your hold on the bowl of thick brown stew as the captain caught your eye with a sharp glare. You held back a nervous gulp and instead bore your own stony grimace, knowing that the smallest show of weakness could be fatal.

“Fili,” He growled, keeping his eyes upon you liked a wild jungle cat in a cage, “Give me the keys and leave.”

The golden-haired man silently obeyed and you sensed his sympathetic gaze as he did so. You listened as his nervous footsteps faded up the outer stairway and braced yourself for what was to come next. Your stomach rolled with a mixture of anxiety and hunger and you tore your challenging gaze away from the captain to look at your bowl. You shrugged and brought it to your lips, thinking perhaps indifference would be more effective than trying to match his anger.

“Ahem,” He cleared his throat with irritation and you looked at him as you took another mouthful.

“Well,” You said as you swallowed and leaned against the side of your cell, “Are you going to say something? You look like you really want to.”

“You’re not in much of a position to be flippant,” He warned as he squared his shoulders, looking like an even bigger shadow in the dark of the galley.

“Well, an hour ago, I was stranded,” You began, “Now I have dry clothing and food. It is not very good, I admit, but–”

“Enough!” He interjected sharply, “As a woman, you’d think you would know to control your tongue…though it seems you lack the sense to even wear the proper attire.”

“What do pirates know of propriety?” You hissed back.

“What would a woman know of pirates?” He returned with venom.

“Oh, very much,” You answered as you gripped the empty bowl tight, “It was pirates who left me floating among the wreckage and pirates who have locked me in this horrid cell. It seems I know more than enough of pirates.”

“It was pirates who fished you out of the sea,” He retorted as he stepped up to the bars of your cell, his blue eyes flashing dangerously, “Foolishly, I must add. My crew seem to have less brains than heart.”

“Hmm, then surely there must only be one true pirate aboard this ship,” You mused wryly, “Little heart…Little brain.”

His hand slammed harshly against the iron bars causing a frightening rattle in response to your careless insult. You realized you had devolved in your annoyance and had likely assured yourself of the death you had so narrowly avoided. He growled as his eyes pierced yours with anger but you knew you had gone to far to retreat.

“Big temper, though,” You grinned as you neared your side of the bars, “You’ve already locked me up. What else could you do?”

“I could still wring your neck,” His nose was almost between the bars as he glared down at you, “Any woman who dare dress as a man must surely face the same consequences.”

“I’ve never known a pirate to have much issue with who he harmed,” You returned and suddenly felt your collar tighten as you were yanked nearly off you feet against the bars.

“Not when they have earned it!” He hissed as he held you tightly by the neck of your shirt, “You would be wise to gird your mouth.”

“Let me go!” You shouted in a half-panic, struggling against him as the bars pressed into you painfully, “Let–” You wriggled in his grasp, “Go!”

You brought the bowl up through the bars and swung it desperately into his jaw, knocking it from your clutch as he released you with a pained grunt. You fell back onto the floor and he raised his hand to where you had battered him.

“Ah, you–” He began angrily before stopping himself with a frustrated grunt.

“It’s the same happens to any man who touches me,” You forced out as you subtly pushed yourself away from the bars,

“I should have you hung,” He threatened as he lowered his hand and you could see the dark blood in his beard.

“Perhaps you should,” You resisted the urge to rub your chafed neck.

He lowered his brow at you darkly as he seemed to contemplate his response but did nothing more than clench his jaw and you saw the wince it caused him. He inhaled deeply as you stared back, waiting for him to do something further. He turned sharply on his heel and you held in the relief gathering in your chest as he strode heavily to the door. You had evaded death twice in one day…though you were sure it would be waiting for you once more on the morrow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader may just find a way out.

You could not be sure but after your restless hours of sleep and the painfully slow pass of time, you figured it was a new day. Not that it mattered much as it only meant another in the dank cell, one of many you would no doubt spend in such misery. You sat against the only wall not made of bars, leaning your head lazily against the musty wood in silent despair.

As you let yourself relax into the subtle sway of the ship, you were suddenly shaken from your calm by the clatter of heavy steps upon the creaky stairs. It was becoming a much too familiar sound and filled you with a sense of foreboding as they were even louder than those which had preceded the dark-haired captain the day before. You inhaled deeply and held the air in your lungs as you assured yourself that you were to be released from your cell but only to atone for your assault upon the ship’s leader.

The bald-headed pirate with the thick muscles entered through the slanting doorway, his thick brow heavy over his fierce eyes as he caught sight of you. He was even more intimidating than the stony-eyed captain and you fought to withhold the fear which nipped at your hard-fought veneer. He pulled the keys from his broad leather belt and forced them wordlessly into the door of your cell.

You tried to flatten yourself against the wall as he opened the door, though you forced yourself to release the breath you had been holding for far too long. You exhaled slowly as you stared at the burly man and waited to be dealt your sentence.

“Out,” He ordered gruffly.

You could do not but gaze back at him wide-eyed, unable to will yourself to move a single inch.

“I said ‘out’,” He crossed his arms as his jaw set fiercely, “Or I’ll drag ye out meself.”

You remained unmoving against the damp wood of the wall and watch as he dropped his arms with a frightful growl of exasperation. He stepped forward into the cell and inched his way closer as if giving you the chance to act on your own. He was almost upon you when you finally regained your sense and your mind was freed from its panic. Desperation sparked within you as your fear peaked and you rolled out of his path and onto all fours before he could reach you.

He was surprised by your swift movement as you crawled around his legs towards the open door, with nothing but the thought of escape drawing you forward. You had not even thought past the door but you could sense his delayed reaction and his own movement behind you. You climbed up to your knees and threw yourself through the door as your adrenaline told you to hurry.

You twisted in midair and fell onto your back as you lifted your foot to kick the door closed. The bars slammed just as he reached them and you shuffled hurriedly forward on your knees to wrench free the keys from the slot.

“Oi!” He shook the door violently, “You open this right now!”

“Um, no?” You replied as you held the keys aloft.

“You cannot–” He began with brimming anger.

“You told me to get out,” You grinned as your new-found freedom brought upon you a sense of hope, “I’m out.”

“Don’t ye do this, lass,” He warned as he glared darkly through the bars, “I seen what ye did to the Captain, but it don’t scare me none.”

“I didn’t do anything to him that he didn’t deserve,” You retorted, backing away as one of his burly hands shot out towards you and climbing to your feet.

“How far do ye think ye’ll get, lass?” He asked as he once more gripped the bars in his thick hands, “One of the other will spot ye and ye’ll be right back where you began.”

“Mmm, maybe….probably,” You shrugged as you looked to the stairs, “But I’ve never given up without a fight.”

“Oh, it’ll be a fight fer sure,” He brooded, “To the death.”

“So be it,” You returned before turning and racing to the steps.

You crept up the stairs warily and peeked up onto the deck through the open hatch door. Footsteps barreled behind you and you ducked your head down and flattened yourself against the steps. You looked up as the pig-tailed pirate ran by and you waited for him to disappear around the other side before you once more raised your head above deck.

No other sound of approach came and you carefully climbed onto the deck, creeping across the swaying boat as you tried to devise a plan. You heard footsteps once more and dodged behind a barrel, waiting and watching for whoever was on their way. You saw the back of the golden-haired man, Fili, you recalled, as he walked by your hiding spot and you gave a silent apology. He had seemed rather nice but you had to get out somehow.

As he passed the barrel, you tiptoed out behind him and followed silently, urging yourself to do what you must. You latched onto the sword hanging upon his hip and pulled it free with a ring of metal. He exclaimed in surprise as he turned back and you held out the blade to keep him from disarming you.

“How did–” He frowned with confusion as his voice wavered, “You best return my sword before I make you.”

“And how would you do that?” You challenged as the adrenaline coursed through your veins, “Without your sword?”

“With this,” He slipped a long dagger from his sleeve and pushed aside your blade’s point, “I agree it lacks the same reach but it is just as sharp.”

You stepped back as he lunged swiftly and you batted away the knife in response. He tried again and you easily dodged the slice as something whistled past your head, only narrowly missing your ear. You heard his other blade thunk into the wood of the deck behind you as your heart raced at the near miss. You had not seen him draw the second knife and you knew you had been fortunate not to have been skewered by it.

The sound of your duel was undoubtedly drawing attention as you heard another set of footsteps approaching and you deflected another swipe as you turned to face the pig-tailed pirate. His own sword was unsheathed in seconds and you found yourself dodging and swinging between the two men. The one with the floppy hat and pig-tails shouted for the rest of the crew and you could hear the stampede as they came from the other side of the deck.

One by one, the rest of the crew appeared and you were assured of your death with every additional foe. Yet, you were managing to weave between them, your blade in constant motion as you parried theirs away. You knew there was no escape to be had but you set course for the head of the boat, hoping to think of something. You rolled under a round man’s sword point and scrambled up to your feet, running to the front of the boat with heavy breaths. You climbed up the bronze statue of the wrathful swashbuckler, fighting to keep hold of your weapon.

You poked your blade downward as you glanced away another jab and knew that there was little choice to be had; die or dive. You pushed yourself further up the tarnished statue and heard the waves crashing against the ship below. You looked down anxiously as you pondered your escape and a deafening blast came from behind you, nearly scaring you into the depths as you slipped slightly.

In your battle-driven scramble, you had failed to notice the ship nearing along the horizon. Its ominous horn broke you from your desperate trance and you turned to stare at the massive vessel as it approached menacingly through the dark waves. You had seen the ship before and you knew it did not bode well…for any one.


	4. Chapter 4

“Man the guns!” The captain boomed as he appeared and pushed through the crowd of men, “Let the girl go back to the sea, we’ve bigger problems before us.”

The dark-haired leader waved towards the tall ship looming in the distance as the rest followed his eye line to their new foe. Your heart caught in your throat as you clung to the statue and you were no longer so eager to throw yourself from the bow.

“Wait!” You called out as the men hurried away in a jumble of shouts and order, “Wait, please!”

The captain turned back to you with an irritated look as you shimmied your way clumsily down the statue. You hung only slightly above the deck as you held his eyes, wary of what he would do should he capture you once more.

“I know that ship,” You explained as you hovered above the deck.

“So do I,” He grumbled as he turned on his heel, “Well enough to know that there is little time to waste.”

“No, wait,” You pleaded once more as you dropped down onto the deck and ran towards him, stepping into his path to keep him from going further, “That’s the ship that left me in the water. It destroyed my ship!”

“It has destroyed many,” He growled with impatience as he tried to side-step you.

“Please, let me help,” You said as you blocked him once more, “Please.”

“Why would I let you help me?” He retorted as he grabbed your arm roughly, “I should throw you back in your cell. At least then you wouldn’t be in my way.”

“My cell?” You exclaimed with a sudden recollection, “There is a bit of an issue with that plan.”

“Which is?” He asked darkly as he lowered his brows.

“It is already occupied,” You explained with a desperate look.

“Occupied?” He tightened his grip on your arm and you brought your sword up between you in warning.

“Let me go,” You ordered as you pointed the tip at his nose, “If you do, I can go release your crew member and I can help you fight.”

“And how do I know you won’t turn that sword upon me again?” He reluctantly released your arm, lowering his hand to rest on his own sword pommel.

“Well, I have it on you now,” You returned, flicking the tip of the sword at his hand to deter him from drawing, “I am of more use fighting at your side than against you, I promise you that.”

“And why should I believe you so capable?” He furrowed his brow with a grimace.

“Ask your crew,” You challenged, “If I turn on you, I trust you will turn as quickly on me. Please, let me use this sword and do not make me do so against you.”

He stared back at you grimly, his blue eyes burning with his clutter of thoughts. His mouth tightened and his hand cautiously lowered from his sword, “Fetch my crew member from the galley,” He relented gruffly as he stepped back, “We need all the hands we can get.”

You nearly stumbled as you barreled down the groaning stairs, the iron keys swaying at the tips of your fingers. You slid through the doorway unable to stop yourself before you finally caught yourself at the bars of the cell. The bald-headed man stared back at you with wrathful eyes and you thought that leaving him there may be the better choice.

“Look,” You began as you backed away from the bars, “I’m suppose to let you free but I cannot do so unless you promise not to kill me.”

“That’s a promise I can’t make, lass,” He growled furiously as he gripped the bars in his burly hands.

“Well, your captain said I should open the door,” You intoned slyly, “But should and must are really two very different things, aren’t they?”

“The captain?” His thick brow lowered quizzically as his eyes lost some of their flame.

“It seems you are not the only pirates on this side of the sea,” You explained as you examined the keys dully, “And you look like the fighting type….but I could always take your place.”

“Ye think so?” He challenged dryly as you looked up at him.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” You raised the sword in your other hand, “Now, do you want out or not?”

“What do ye think, lass?” He hissed back at you, “I s’pose I can spare ye if ye let me out…but only if ye do so in the next ten seconds.”

“Fine, fine,” You stepped forward cautiously, slowly placing the keys in the slot, “If you don’t take my head, your captain surely will.”

“Aye, he will,” His large hand reached through the bars and stilled your own as his met your eyes with his fierce glare, “Ye won’t get another swipe at that grumpy bastard…or me. So ye best be speakin’ true.”

“I can still leave you in here,” You warned and his grip tightened, “Though I think you would be of more use fighting the pirates creeping across the water towards us.”

“Surely better fer it then ye,” He released your hand and you turned the key, “And ye might be safer down here, lass.”

“Hmm, you can ask the rest of your crew how safe I am above deck,” You retorted as you stepped back and he burst through the door eagerly, “Or you can ask my blade.”

You spun your sword in your hand before turning back to race up the stairs. your thoughts returning to the enemy approaching on the horizon. You had not longed for vengeance before as you had been more set on mere survival yet it was all that you could see as you made your way above board.


	5. Chapter 5

The great vessel loomed closer and the sight of its mangled statue sent chills through you as you recalled the last time you had set eyes upon it. The rest of the crew braced themselves for the battle to come as you looked up from your work. You had requested gunpowder from the gunners and were fast at work making traps for your foe.

There was a shortage of bombs to be found on this ship but you had assured the doubtful pirates that your way was just as good. There were two different kinds before you; those which would work as a smokescreen and those meant to destroy. You had learned this not long ago from an old man who had spent most of his days as a mercenary. He had fought mostly on land but his teachings proved just as useful on the waters.

Your hands were black from the powder as you finished your work and you stood, gripping at the sword slung through your belt. It was the only piece of clothing aside from your boots which you had salvaged from your lot. It did not matter much what you wore as it would surely soon be stained with blood; though you hoped it would not be your own.

The captain’s shout went up in the damp still air as the enemy ship neared and you could hear the cannons as they shifted below. You glanced over at the letters etched across the vessel bearing down on you and could make out the faded letters across it;  _The Bloody Barnacle_. Above, dark sails waved forebodingly; their dyed black faded to a grim grey and a rusted statue of a beheaded woman holding her own head wailed into the sky.

You could be sure that it was the same ship which had seen you stranded in the depths and your hunger for revenge was mingled with a streak of fear. You tucked your bombs away into a wool sack and set the fuses into your baggy pocket with the flint. You ran towards the bow where the Captain watched darkly as the enemy neared and you could sense his own anger brimming.

“I’ve got a plan,” You said as you stopped beside him, “It may just work.”

“Is this the same plan which had your last ship in shambles upon the waves?” He asked without looking at you.

“No, they would not listen to me,” You tilted your head wryly, “And that is why they now languish below us.”

“And can you truly say it would be any different had they listened to your foolish ideas?” He mused and you wondered if it was worth it to even help this man; perhaps it would be better to surrender and hope for a quick death.

“Maybe…” You could not assure him that yours was the best but his own crew was not prepared to face this foe directly, “But I can say that it will save your crew.”

“What is it then?” He turned and looked down at you, his bold eyes were bluer than the water below, “Are you going to talk them out of attacking us?”

“Smoke,” You explained as you held up your bag, “If we create a screen, we can turn the ship and they won’t be able to board us.”

“You want us to run?” He narrowed his eyes darkly.

“No, we will fight,” You replied with grit, “But if they get close enough to board us, you know as well as I that we would be as good as dead.”

“Let them board us,” He growled as he glared back at the approaching ship, “I have waited a long time to see this ship again and I would finish what I started.”

“Even if it meant your own death? And that of your crew?” You argued, though you could not say why you were so determined; perhaps it was your sense of self-preservation, the very same which had brought you aboard this very ship, “We cannot defeat them but we can serve them a hefty blow.”

“Hmmm,” He looked to you once more, “You can try your little plan but I will not have you getting in my way should I have the chance to kill my foe.”

“Very well,” You accepted, knowing that you would get no further with the man, “How much do you value your smallboats?”

* * *

You loaded the smoke bombs into the smallboat as Fili and the man he told you was his brother, Kili, helped you secure them to the bottom. Slowly you lowered it over the side of the ship, hoping to catch the current in the proper direction so that it would guide it round the bow. Once you dropped the flint, the left side oars would be pulled up and with any luck you could veer away from the nearing foe.

As you looked back over your shoulder, you could see the enemy preparing their ropes and ladders in anticipation of their boarding and you hoped your plan worked. Finally, the bottom of the wood dipped into the water with a near-silent splash and you held your breath. The Bloody Barnacle was almost upon you and if you missed with the flint, it would all be over.

The rest of the crew members lined the ship with guns and swords at the ready and you said one final prayer as the boat began to crest the front of  _The_   _Fury_. You sparked the flint and dropped it swiftly, the air seeming to freeze around you as you watched it float precariously down. You held in a curse as the flint was caught by the wind and appeared to be destined for the water.

It land softly upon the wood of the boat but you weren’t certain that the flame had lasted long enough. The boat continued to sway around the front of the ship and you cringed with failure as you shuffled for another flint in your pocket. You may just be able to get another off before the first shots erupted.

As if your thoughts could be heard, a volley of gunshot erupted through the air and white smoke shrouded  _The Barnacle_  as bullets pelted against the deck of  _The Fury_. You ducked down as you cursed yourself and you grabbed at the rifle you had been allowed for the battle. You began to load the gun as you peeked over the edge of the rail and the other crew members were already lining up their own shots, ready to fire.

Yet, before the captain could call for his responding volley, the white smoke thinned in the air only to be replaced by the thick black smoke of gunpowder. You nearly gasped as the gray fog formed a curtain between the ship and the call for oars went up before  _The Fury’s_  crewmates fired their first shots. It was a deafening sound and your own gun sent up a flurry of smoke adding to your disorientation.

You could sense the ship as it turned slowly and you realised, even without a clear sight of the sea, that you had turned too late.  _The Fury_  would no doubt be able to veer away but it would come much too close to avoid  _The Barnacle_  and near enough for an attempt at boarding. You tossed your rifle aside, knowing that you were no good with that compared to the rest. Instead, you would have to use what was left of your little tricks.

You grabbed your wool sack and rushed around to the front of the bow, ducking the next volley as you heard the bullets embedding themselves in the exterior of the rail. You ran along the side of the ship which would soon be adjacent to the bow of the Barnacle and kept low as you waited for the motion to steady.

You pulled out one of your improvised bombs and a fuse, tucking the end into the cloth as you fumbled for a flint. You looked at the line of men along the rail and they fired once more as the black smoke began to clear and the sudden whine of wood on wood roared through the air. You had come so close to the Barnacle that you were grinding against it.

Your heart nearly burst at the sound and you rose up, lighting the bomb before you tossed it towards the enemy pirate preparing to climb across onto the Fury. The blast of gunpowder sent up a rain of splinters and screams as men were shredded by shrapnel and the force of the explosion. You ducked down once more as the rest of the crew began to draw their swords in anticipation of a boarding.

The ships continued to grind against each other but you knew you could still avoid a boarding if you could create enough chaos on  _The Barnacle_. You lobbed another bomb and it exploded atop the cabin of the foe’s ship, knocking down a hidden sniper and razing a group of men with shrapnel. You peeked over once more as you lit another and heaved it as you scurried on your knees towards the crew.

The ships finally separated as the oars completed the turn and you felt something sear across the skin of your arm as you stood and ran down the line of pirates. The volley which sounded next nearly had you off your feet and you felt the whistle of bullets as they narrowly missed you. You tossed another bomb as you glanced over to the other ship and the subtle movement of dark metal caught your eye.

You looked across to the gunner hidden at the bow of the ship near the statue and you recognized him from days before when he had ordered for the boarding of your former ship. It was the captain of  _The Barnacle_ , a man with scars across his face and a single arm and a half to his person. His missing forearm was replaced by a curved blade and he balanced his rifle delicately upon the blackened metal.

You followed the nose of his gun to its target; another captain who was engaged with an enemy, his own blade flashing through the fog of smoke and gunpowder. You removed your hand from your bag and raced towards the melee, not thinking about why you would risk your own skin. Perhaps it was the thought that if the captain died, the rest of the crew would be as good as useless.

You pulled your sword from your belt and ran it across the enemy pirate’s back as a single shot sounded and the body fell into the captain. He collapsed under the force of its weight as his foe grew limp atop him and you were pulled down by your blade as it caught in the flesh. You wrenched free the metal as you pushed the dead man away from the captain, who did his best to wriggle free of the limp corpse. As he got free of the body, he looked to you with a confused grimace before he gasped and gripped his shoulder with a pained wince.

You could see the blood gathering under his dark jacket but the clang of metal and rifles still sounded around you. You glanced back and saw that you were nearly clear of  _The Barnacle,_ only a few enemies remained aboard  _The Fury._  You reached into your leather bag and pulled free your last bomb, striking a flint before lobbing it blindly towards the other ship.

The blast was like any other and the shouts which followed told you that you had not missed as you turned back to the captain. You could sense a shadow nearing and you lifted your sword without hesitation as you turned to stab your enemy through the chest, blood spattering across your front as you pulled your blade free and sent it once more through his neck. You let the body fall beside the other you had left upon the deck and fought against the sickness brewing in your stomach.

You turned back and knelt beside the captain who was growling as he gripped his shoulder and you once more set down your sword. The movement around you was slowly fading and you could be assured that your plan had saved you from certain death and the rest of the crew could deal with the last of the fray.

“Let me see,” You tried to push away his hand with your own, “It needs to be stemmed.”

“Why?” He asked suspiciously as he resisted, “Why are you helping me?”

“Because I said I would,” You answered plainly as you fought against his strength, “And you’ve been shot.”

He furrowed his brow and his blue eyes examined you warily before he reluctantly lowered his hand from his shoulder. You pulled open the hole left by the bullet and examined the wound, thankful that it was not so deep as expected. You tore at the ratty end of your borrowed tunic and ripped free a strip of fabric, the garment more than long enough for the expenditure. You pressed it to the captain’s shoulder and he grunted in pain as you gave a guilty apology

“Thank you,” He gritted out as he replaced your hand with his, “If you hadn’t—” He paused as he looked away, as if fighting with himself, “If you hadn’t pushed me it would’ve struck true.”

“It’s nothing,” You assured as you took your hand away and wipe your bloodied and sweaty forehead, looking around as the wind and oars carried the ship along its new path, “I—I did what I had to,”

You glanced around at the dead bodies and the crew members who were at last able to lower their blades, going over the corpses for any sign of fortune. You wiped your hands on your knees and stood, offering your hand to the dark captain as you sensed his eyes still fixed upon you.

“Come on,” You said as you pulled him up with effort, “You should get that tended to…you have a medic?”

“I believe so,” He looked around at his crew, “Though he may be a little busy as it were.”

“Good…–” You began but stopped, thinking perhaps you were overstepping yourself, “Are you going to lock me up again, then?”

“Lock you up?” He repeated as he glanced to the sky in thought, “I suppose I shouldn’t after all you’ve done.”

“Well, in that case,” You shrugged, causing a pain to shoot through your arm as the adrenaline began to drain from you, “I could have a look? I know how to get bullets out and I can stitch….or you could just wait for your own medic.”

“Hmm,” He eyed his crew once more as they went about their work, “I would rather it done sooner than later. If you think you can do it, then I cannot say no.”


	6. Chapter 6

Your hands were shaking as the adrenaline of battle slowly died and you were led to the cabin by the captain who gripped his shoulder with a pained grimace. He opened the door and ushered you through with a nod. You took a flint from your pocket as he closed the door and you found the lantern atop the large desk within. You could feel him watching you as you did so and you thought that perhaps you should have waited for him.

“I’ve got some materials in my desk,” He began as he passed you in the tight space and rounded to the large chair bolted to the floor, opening a drawer and digging around with his free hand, “There’s some rum on the shelf over there…if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Certainly,” You replied meekly, not so use to the gruff man sounding anything but threatening, “For you or the wound?”

“Both,” He answered as you saw a flicker behind his stony veneer, “So, is that how you got aboard a ship then? As a medic?”

“Well, it helped,” You explained as you neared with the full-bodied bottle in hand, “I worked the sails as any man–”

“But you’re not a man,” He insisted as he watched you set down the rum.

“No, I’m not,” You accepted with a silent sigh, “It seems a sin in this world to be anything but.”

“Do you not have a family who would prefer you safe at home?” He ventured as you began to sort through the chest he had pulled from his drawer, “And not throwing bombs at pirates?”

“Is it so much to ask for that a woman makes her own decision?” You returned dully as you pulled a set of thin pliers from the kit, “That she lives a life of her own choosing?”

“I…” He started to speak but a twitch kept him from finishing his original thought, “I suppose you have proven yourself more than adept at taking care of yourself.”

“And you. If you wouldn’t mind,” You gestured to his shoulder, “I should look at that if I am to tend to it.”

“Oh, yes,” He stood and removed his jacket, the fabric tugging at the dried blood.

He slung the heavy garment over the back of the chair as he sat back down with another grunt of pain, his arm held delicately at his side.

“Just rip the shirt,” He gritted through his teeth, “Easier than trying to get the arm out.”

“Alright,” You neared as you retrieved a pair of scissors from the chest, “I’ll try to be gentle.”

“Do what you must,” He commanded dully as he leaned back in the chair.

You cut the edge of the hole in his shirt created by the bullet and used your hands to tear it until his shoulder was bare. You let go of the tattered fabric and it hung loosely, revealing the left side of his chest and you tried not to look too long. It was not that you had never seen a man so but you had never been alone with one while he had been. You had not even thought of such things since you had disguised yourself and the idea nearly choked you.

“Right, first we’ve got to get the bullet out,” You said as you grabbed the bottle and poured rum over the cut, wiping it with a cloth, “That’s the most difficult part.”

“I know, I’ve been shot before,” He grumbled as you took the small-nosed pliers from the chest, “None of it is easy.”

“Well, so have I,” You returned as you set your fingers on either side of the wound, “So we both know how miserable this is going to be.”

“Oh,” He creased his brow before grunting as you dug the pliers into his flesh and fished around for the shallow bullet.

You pulled free the metal and dropped it onto the desk with a ping, pressing a cloth to it as the blood began to flow anew from his shoulder.

“There will still be some shrapnel in there,” You explained as you applied pressure, “Best to slow the bleeding before we go looking for more.”

“Mmm,” He exhaled in pain as his hand went over yours and he slowly removed it, realizing yours was still there, “So, you’ve been shot before?”

“Yes, it was not a very pleasant experience,” You replied as you pressed on his shoulder, “As you can probably confirm. I was lucky, it caught my rib instead of my lung. And you?”

“I was shot in the knee by that very pirate who attacked us this day,” He looked down begrudgingly, “And it seems he nearly finished the job.”

“You know him?” You asked curiously, “How?”

“He is called Azog the Defiler,” He grumbled darkly, “Let’s just say I’m the reason he only has half an arm.”

“Oh,” You accepted as you looked back to his shoulder, “Perhaps you would like some rum before I continue?”

“I think I would,” He answered as you reached back with your free hand and grabbed the glass, setting it in his grasp before reaching back for the bottle, “Thank you.”

You filled the cup before replacing the rum on the desk and slowly removed the cloth from his wound. He sipped his drink with another grunt as you did and you retrieved a set of tweezers from behind you, slowly pushing apart the torn flesh as you removed a sliver of iron. He threw back the rest of his drink and slammed it down as you pulled free another piece of metal and you did your best to make your work quick.

“I always find that talking helps with the pain,” You began as you focused on your task, “If you don’t mind, I would ask your name seeing as I am currently fingers deep in your blood.”

“Ugh,” He clenched his fists in pain before he could muster a full voice, “Captain Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Well, Captain,” You replied as you removed the last of the shrapnel, “My name is Ja–No, sorry, force of habit. My real name is [Y/N], if you care at all.”

“I…” He swallowed as you set down the tweezers and concentrated on threading the needle, “I must apologize for how I’ve treated you.”

“I’ve been dealt worse,” You assured him as you wiped clean his wound once more, “Besides, you scooped me out of the depths and allowed me to stay on your ship, even if it was behind bars.”

“No, my crew did that,” He grumbled and you sensed a hint of genuine guilt in his tone, “I am sure you know I was entirely against it.”

“Well, when we are finished here,” You placed the point of the needle at the edge of his wound, “You are free to throw me back. I think I’ve had enough of hovering so close to death. I would that it be over swiftly than to try to balance myself on such a narrow bridge.”

“I would not have my ship if it were not for you,” He looked away and you could hear the difficulty in his voice, “Or my life…I owe you at least passage to a safe port.”

“Thank you,” You accepted meekly as you kept your eyes on the needle, “You may want to brace yourself.”

You poked through the skin and he stifled a roar into another grunt and you bit your lip as you steadied your hands. You continued to weave the twine through his flesh as he stayed almost still beneath your touch and you were thankful when you had finally pulled close the gash. You wiped it clean a final time as blood no longer seeped so heavily and you pulled a length of bandage to wind around his shoulder.

“Here, let me help,” He slipped his shirt down his other shoulder so that his chest was bare and you tried not to let the unexpected thoughts nip so sharply, “You’ll have to do it around here if you want it to stay in place.”

He gestured across the top of his torso and you realized he was right; he had been shot in the most inconvenient of places. You set the end of the bandage at the back of his shoulder and began to wrap it at an angle, having to reach around him as you did so. As you leaned closer, you sensed the subtle turn of his head and you knew he was watching you. He had barely looked at you before and you were not so sure you preferred the change or how it was making you feel so odd.

“There,” You secured the end of the bandage at last and stepped back as you wiped your sweating hands on your tunic, “All done…I think I need a drink myself, though, if it is alright?”

“As you wish,” He reached for another cup at the corner of his desk and set it before you, “You may sit if you please, or perhaps you would rather somewhere to drink alone.”

“Um,” You pondered the offer and figured it would be rude to take the rum and run, “I suppose I could stay a moment.”

He stood suddenly and you nearly tripped over your heels as you backed away only to reproach yourself as he pulled forth a stool from behind you, He set it before you and waved his hand to the worn seat with what could have been a slightly discernible smile.

“Sit,” He invited though with him, it was more a command, “I know it is not much.”

“No, it’s fine,” You assured as you gently sat down and he filled your cup before his own, “I have sat upon worse.”

“Like galley floors?” He mused and sent you another look of remorse before his eyes flared with concern, “Your arm.”

He reached out and pulled at the faded fabric above your elbow and you glanced down to the crimson stain which had spread there. You recalled the sharp burning you had felt during the battle and wondered how you had not noticed it before him. Perhaps it was the sight of his blood that chased away the last of the adrenaline, but it began to pulse with agony all at once.

“Oh,” You pulled the baggy fabric away from your skin and revealed the hole in the elbow, “I must have gotten a ricochet.”

You felt around the flesh tenderly, withholding a whine as you did.

“No bullet and shallow,” You assured him and tore at the shredded fabric until the bottom of your sleeve came free, “Give me the rum.”

He handed you the cup and you poured half of it down your arm as the blood ran down your skin with the dark alcohol. You replaced the cup on the corner of the desk and wiped your wound with the cleaner edge of your detached sleeve. You grabbed the length of bandage as you held your arm out and tried to figure how to do it with one hand.

“Here,” Captain Oakenshield held out his hand and you let him take the bandage from you, “Let me .”

He placed the strip above your wound and wrapped it until it was well past your elbow, securing it easily. His hand seemed to linger on your arm a moment before he finally dropped it and moved back in his chair without a word. He looked to his desk and grabbed his rum as if he had only just remembered it and gulped it heavily.

“Thank you,” You uttered as you reached for your own cup and finished off what was left, “But I think maybe I should go help clean up. We don’t want the corpses spreading disease.”

“Oh, well,” He stood as you did and no one had done that since you had still worn a dress, “You don’t have to…perhaps, it would be better if you rested.”

“My injury is not so bad as yours,” You assured with a small smile, “Thank you, Captain Oakenshield. I hope that we find that port soon so that I may be out of your way.”

“Thorin,” His voice halted you as you began to turn, “You needn’t use formalities when there is no one else to hear.”

“Thank you, Thorin,” You repeated before you swivelled towards the door and made for the dimming light outside.

“Thank you, [Y/N],” You heard him say softly as you pulled open the door, “Should you fancy another drink when you are done…I have plenty of rum left.”


	7. Chapter 7

You had spent hours patching the sails of  _The Fury,_  the main sail having taken most of the damage and slowed the progress of the ship by hours, if not a full day. Cleaning up the remnants of the battle had been tiring and you had spent three days alongside the crew mopping away blood and repairing what had been ravaged by gunshot and canon.

You were near the top of the mast, a rope around your waist securing you in case you slipped. The sky had darkened but you had continued your work mending the last of the holes, and you looked out across the water, it’s calm surface reflecting the twinkle of stars and the silver glow of the moon. It was almost peaceful, though being trapped on a pirate’s vessel allowed you little true relief.

Content that you had done what you could to repair the topsail, you began to shimmy down the mast slowly. You moved the rope down with you, a foot at a time, careful not to slip as you did. You hung just above the deck, your feet dangling above the wooden slats, and untied the rope, dropping down with a small clatter. You turned with a yawn which nearly turned to a shriek as you noticed the dark figure waiting for you.

“By god!” You clutched your chest as you stumbled backwards in fright, “What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?”

“Sorry,” It was the first apology you had heard from the captain’s mouth and it nearly unsettled you as much as his unannounced appearance, “I saw you from my cabin; up there.” He pointed to the sky, “I thought maybe you had fallen asleep.”

“No, I don’t think I could have so far above,” You peered up the mast, “How’s the shoulder?”

“Healing,” He shrugged and flinched, having forgotten the pain in doing so, “No infection. The stitches have held. And your arm?”

“Good,” You nodded awkwardly, tucking your thumbs into your belt which held both tunic and trousers taut, “As I said, it was shallow enough. Nothing to worry about.”

Oakenshield nodded his head and gazed out over the water, his blue eyes catching the silver of the moon. The air grew thick and as you waited for him to speak. You could see that thoughts flurried to burst forth but he fought to keep them within. It had been strange in the days since the battle, you had run into him in such unexpected moments or caught him watching you. You thought him still wary of you, guarding you from afar, yet there was not the same animosity in his manner as before.

“Uh, I’ve been meaning to ask if, you, uh, are you comfortable? With your sleeping quarters, I mean.” He looked down at you, reaching up to adjust the tricorn hat atop his thick black locks, “I may be a pirate but I know how to mind a woman’s…needs,” He cringed at his own wording, “What I mean is, my men haven’t bothered you at al, have theyl?”

“Course not,” You answered, tapping your toe nervously, “I spent years below deck with men with worse intentions and I can say I’ve been given no reason to distrust your men as yet.”

“I’m glad to hear it, I know you’ve little regard for my kind but we do try to keep to a standard on my ship,” He explained, rubbing his hands together, “I know I treated you roughly,” He looked to his boots and you could still see the blemish along his jaw, the bruise you had left there still visible, “But the sea…I’ve seen it do terrible things to men, worse to women. I…” He trailed off and turned away from you, pensive as he approached the rail of the ship, “We should reach the next port soon enough and you’ll be free of us,” He vowed quietly, “I should bid you good night.”

The abrupt end to your conversation confounded you but you were not surprised. The captain seemed little fond of having you on board even if he no longer kept you behind bars. Despite the words he offered, neutral if not genial, you could sense a discomfort residing beneath his austere veneer.

“Good night,” You returned blandly, turning on your heel, pausing for a moment to look back, “How long would you say to the next port?”

“A week, if the wind is strong and the waters calm,” He offered plaintively, “You have my word that you’ll be offered safe board for the rest of your voyage.”

Wordlessly, you accepted his answer and dragged your feet to the hatch which led below deck. Pulling open the heavy wooden door, you turned to descend the ladder and as you did, you looked up and caught the eye of Oakenshield who was watching you over his shoulder. You averted your gaze quickly as he did the same and stepped down the rungs. The captain was likely as eager as you were for you to be off the ship, even if there was little waiting for you back on solid ground.

* * *

You sat on a barrel, the sway of the ship lulling you in the hot noon sun of another torrid day. You had just finished swabbing the deck, the bucket emptied into the sea and the mop discarded against the cabin’s wall. As you had on your previous ship, you had offered your work where it was needed, loathing the idea of being indebted to any. While the eccentric crew of privateers had been pleasant enough since your release, you were aware that it was only because they would soon be free of you.

The heat from the bright rays seemed to intensify but you sensed another source from which it radiated. You reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair into the bandana you concealed your hair beneath, mourning the hat you had lost to the sea. Glancing over you found a familiar pair of eyes set on you.. Captain Oakenshield was still in the habit of his observation and his attentions had only grown more overt.

Realizing that he had been caught, he pivoted quickly and cleared his throat, nearly colliding with another crewmate. Dwalin, the bald pirate you had locked in your cell sidestepped his captain with a curious glance but said nothing as he let Oakenshield continue his aimless path. Crossing his burly arms, the leader’s second mate turned to you, his eyes narrowing as he approached with his brow hanging darkly over his grey eyes.

“Aye, I should’ve known what caused the captain such unease,” He stopped beside you, leaning against the barrel beside yours, “Seems that wherever I find him, I find ye within arm’s length.”

“Meaning?” You challenged wryly, “I’ve not asked him to follow me around like a hawk.”

“Never says ye did,” He uncrossed his arms, settling his grip on the pommel of his sword, “It’s only the way he is. Even in all his stubbornness, he’s not entirely inhumane.”

“Don’t know how I’ll make any of you trust me,” You sighed, “Seems even blood isn’t enough.”

“Oi, lass, it’s not suspicion makes him so,” His mouth slanted with consideration before he continued, “A woman aboard a ship, it’s bad luck. I figure s’why ye dress the way you do. Smart but dangerous,” He tapped his head, “Let’s just say, the captain, he’s seen the bad luck that can befall ladies on the water.”

“Oh, well, I do know the risks,” You said plainly, “But it isn’t safe anywhere for a woman. Not truly.”

“S’pose yer right,” He allowed with a tilt of his head, “But that run in with Azog and his crew…it lends itself to bad memories.”

“…” You remained silent as you stared at the salty ripples before the prow of the ship, “I’ll be gone soon,” You assured the dour crewmate as you pushed yourself from atop the barrel, “And he can forget again,” You frowned, wishing that you were still just another man on a boat, “I’m sure all of you are counting down the time.”

With that you marched away from Dwalin, eager to find another menial task to distract you. Even if these pirates were not so bloodthirsty as most, they were just as exhausting. When you reached port, you would be glad to see their ship disappearing into the horizon, but until then, you would pray for strong winds and smooth sailing.


	8. Chapter 8

You had nothing to take with you as you made port and it was all the better as that meant you wouldn’t be prey for street thugs. Your hair was hidden under your bandana, an ill-fitting hat supplied by Balin rested atop it, and a wool jacket with only a single patch to its lapel had replaced your old one. You looked as you had before, easily mistaken for a man and passable enough to find safe passage aboard any merchant vessel.

You felt almost reluctant to leave the ship after your weeks alongside the crew which had slowly warmed to your presence. As he had always been, Balin was kindly and the young pair of brothers, Kili and Fili, had taken to chattering with you when they thought their uncle unaware. The rest were friendly enough and even Dwalin had seemed to have forgotten about the trick you had played on him in the cell. Only Captain Oakenshield had continued to elude you. 

Perhaps it was that unlike the rest, you had not shared quarters and duties. Or maybe it was that he still disdained you as he had since the day you had washed up on his ship.And yet, his peculiar interest in you, whether suspicion or otherwise, had not ceased.

“Take some food, dear,” Balin tucked a packet of salted meat into your jacket pocket, “I know it’s not much but it’ll have to do. And some silver–”

“I’ve already said I can’t take your coin,” You argued but he forced the purse into your hand, “Please, Balin.”

“Take it,” Another voice cut in and Oakenshield appeared from behind his crewmembers, nearing you with grim steps, “You’ll need it. Buy yourself passage. Perhaps this time, home. To where you belong.”

You accepted the purse wordlessly, annoyed at the Captain’s order. He didn’t even know if you had a home and yet he insisted on pushing you towards it. You grimaced and hid it within your jacket with the dried meat. A sword taken from a corpse of the foe had been allotted to you and a knife to go with it. You had almost recovered all that you had before you had been shipwrecked.

“As I promised,” Oakenshield waved towards the noisy docks, “It looks like this is where we leave you. Unfortunately, we cannot linger for the army is never far from port.”

“I wouldn’t expect any different,” You replied dully, “Thank you. I guess…” You inhaled deeply as you looked along the line of crewmates, “You pirates aren’t all bad. I hope the wind carries you where you need to go.”

“You, too,” Despite his eagerness to be rid of you, the captain’s voice held a note of sombreness, “Best be off with you.”

He turned sharply and walked away, pushing aside the other pirates to disappear within his cabin. You were confused by the blunt yet nearly heartwarming farewell but did not think on it long as Kili and Fili stood before you. “Sorry about him,” Fili smiled, “But you should be happy with all you got from him.”

“He’s not one for sentiment,” Kili added, “But we are. So, keep yourself safe, eh.”

“And out of the water,” Bofur added from behind.

“Don’t doubt the lass,” Dwalin interjected, “We’ve all seen her with a blade. She’ll be just fine.”

“She will,” Balin agreed, guiding you to the ramp which stretched to port, “Captain was right. British army is never far behind. I don’t mean to rush you but we must part.”

“I know,” You gave a bittersweet smile, “Thank you again. All of you,” You called to the rest, “And goodbye.”

With a final pat on Balin’s arm, you climbed onto the ramp and walked across it carefully, reaching the wooded dock and marching on without looking back. You longed to but resisted the urge, instead searching out your next adventure. Merchant vessels were plenty and you could buy your lot on one any day. A night on land would do you well.

Surpassing the row of ships, you made for the streets crowded with leaning houses and seller’s stalls. It had been quite some time since you had ventured into a buzzing marketplace but the smell of fish and shouts of vendors riled your memory. You bought a heel of bread and bowl of stew along your way, perusing the taverns which offered board as you ate ravenously. There was a curious stir in your stomach which bound you to this island but sleep would clear your mind.

You pushed into an inn, this one better than most, and approached the front desk where a crooked old man dozed. You tapped on the countertop to wake him and he started with a croak. You offered a stiff smile and laid down a piece of silver, “Will this get me a room?”

“Might do,” He leaned over the desk and peered into the barroom, your eyes following his to the swarm of red jackets within, “Add another and it will. Officers pay well and I’ve only one room to be had.”

You pulled out another coin without ado and laid it atop the first. The man smiled and scooped up his fare, placing a rusted key before you in return. “Up the stairs and to the end of the hall,” He gave a brown-toothed smirk, “S’all yours, boy. Though, I daresay you could earn back some coin with some of these redcoats,” He jabbed his thumb towards the barroom and lowered his voice, “You know how some soldiers’ tastes stray.”

You gave a weak cough and turned away from the rickety innkeeper, pocketing the key as you stepped into the barroom. You did not want to retire just yet and the thought of brandy was all too tempting. You approached the musty bar where a grey-bearded man awaited, a dirty rag across his shoulder and a vacant stare on his face. 

“Brandy,” You ordered and he blindly filled a glass, taking a coin in return.

You angled your way through the crowd of officers, unnoticed in your plain clothes and smaller than most. Their voices filled the room and you sat in the corner, yawning as you sipped the bitter brandy. A sudden rush of footsteps came from the entrance and a man stumbled through the door, nearly tripping over a stool.

“Major,” He called out as he clouted towards your side of the tavern, “Major,” He repeated breathlessly, stopping before a tall figure with pale blonde hair tied behind his head neatly. You glanced over at the sudden intrusion, unable to see the face of the officer who was being addressed, and could not help but observe the scene.

“Pirates,” The smaller man finally choked out, “At the docks. Looks like they’re about to set off but I think we can catch them.”

“Pirates?” A discerning deep voice cut through the din, the major turning his head to the enlisted man, “How interesting,” He looked to the officer with whom he had been consorting with upon your arrival, “Not often they show themselves around here.”

“Major!” Another enlisted man appeared at the door, this one with more grace than the last.

“Let me guess, pirates?” The major chortled and the bar went quiet as now all were drawn by the conversation, “Yes, yes, we were just on our way out to meet them.”

“Sir,” The second man shoved through the crowd and removed his had meekly, “Not just that, we saw one of them in town. Walked right off the ship,” You bit your lip as you went rigid in your chair, “I followed them,” You hid behind your cup and pretended not to hear, “He’s here.”

You swallowed and tried to blend in with the wall but knew what would come next. You dropped your cup and pushed back your chair, diving into the crowd which broke into a sudden panic. “Right there,” you heard from behind you, trying to fight your way out of the barroom but were seized by the hands of one of the dozen officers around you.

“I’m not a pirate,” You insisted as you were turned back to the crowd, the major approaching you with a sneer down his long nose, “I swear it. I came off that ship but I’m not of their ilk.”

“In all my days, I’ve never known an honest man to take sail on a pirate’s ship and not be one and the same,” He tilted his head devilishly, “Now, we’re going to meet your crew and judging by your efforts, they shouldn’t be too hard to capture.”

He continued past you, his shoulder colliding with yours harshly as the other officer kept hold of you. “Bring him with us, Lieutenant,” He commanded over his shoulder, “He should be witness to what happens to pirates among the civilized.”

You were dragged forward as you tried to dig your heels into the floorboards, unable to resist the strength of the taller man. You felt the same dread that had rose in you when you had been left to float among the wrecks of your ship. Death seemed an inescapable fate and you could see no twist which could see you past this sentence. 

You only prayed that Oakenshield’s crew would not perish alongside you.


	9. Chapter 9

You were relieved as you came along the docks to find  _Thrain’s Fury_ absent from the line of vessels, though your predicament still hung heavy as you were forced up the ramp of the British warship christened _The Mirkwood Rose_. The blond major issued orders swiftly to his men as they rallied aboard and stopped beside his second-in-command who extended a telescope towards the horizon.

You were dragged towards the bow, looking past the red-coated major to the distant waters, a distant speck visible against the sinking sun. The officer who held you tightened his grip as you struggled against him but the blond leader’s booming voice stilled you as he turned on his heel.

“Follow them,” He ordered blithely as he neared you, looking down his long nose, “We can catch them still…and this one,” He jab a finger sharply into your shoulder, “Will help us. Bring him to my cabin and I’ll have it out of him.”

The soldier that restrained you shoved you around, kicking your heels so that you followed the Major towards the broad cabin which sat central to the prow of the ship. You kept your feet moving, knowing that resistance could mean your death. If the British were convinced you were a pirate, the sentence was already settled.

You mourned the sword they had stripped from your belt, wishing you had any way to fight back.  _What did you have besides your word to convince them you were anything but a buccaneer?_ The major pressed on, the door opening with a clamour before him as you were escorted within and you stood before the desk he sat behind. The soldier released you at last, retreating from the cabin and closing the door swiftly behind him with a startling click.

You swallowed as you stared expectantly at the major who seemed little bothered by your presence. He leaned an elbow against the arm of his chair, distracting himself with a stray parchment before his eyes found you. It was as if he was trying to intimidate you. That he thought the mere colour of his uniform would draw forth an illicit confession. He stared at you, the machination playing across his features as the air turned sinister.

“Please, sit,” He waved to the chair nailed to floor opposite him, “We’ve much to talk about, haven’t we?”

“You’ve got the wrong person,” You pleaded and made no move, “I swear.”

“And why should I trust the word of a pirate?”

“I’m telling you I’m not a pirate,” You raised your hands desperately, “Please, I’m just a merchant sailor. I work on ships. Nothing more.”

“Then why did you flee, hmm? That does not betray innocence,” He tapped his long fingers across the desk, “Now sit. I haven’t the time to waste arguing with a criminal.”

“You’d be better off throwing me to the water or locking me up for I haven’t anything to tell you,” You hissed, refusing to budge.

“Sit before I make you,” He threatened as his irises sparked with ire, “The punishment for your kind is hardly generous, but should you choose to co-operate, I can lessen your suffering.”

You remained silent and unmoving, your chest heaving with rising fear within. After a moment of tension, eyes locked in stalemate, he rose with haste. He stormed towards you but you refused to flinch. He seized your arm and you pulled back from him as his fingers gripped you painfully. You struggled against him, hoping he would resign you to the cells so you could await your death in peace.

For so long, your end had loomed before you and you were growing impatient to meet it. There was no escape to be had but you would not face your death a coward and an informer. Captain Oakenshield and his crew may have been rough but they had saved your life. You would rather go fighting than prolong the ordeal for a piece of your integrity.

Overpowered by the strength of the much taller major, you were shoved back into the wall and his hand was across your throat. You grappled at his fingers as the breath was squeezed from you. You wheezed in desperation as silver stars began to fill your vision and you tried to dig your nails into the hand which choked you. Looking up, you saw a flick of the major’s eyes downwards and he suddenly released you, letting you collapse to the floor.

“You’re…” He stepped back, his eyes never leaving you, “A woman.” His lip curled at the revelation and you glanced down to where his attention had strayed. In your skirmish, your shirt had sagged and a button come loose, revealing the cloth wrapped tightly to bind your chest, the top of your cleavage betraying your true form. “Interesting.”

“Fuck,” You uttered weakly through your laboured panting, the air burning your throat as you tried to steady yourself, your legs shaking as you stood.

“This is going to be much more enjoyable than I expected,” He latched onto you once more before you could evade him. He dragged you over to the chair he had previously offered, your boots sliding helplessly across the floor. “Sit,” He forced you down roughly, “Should you rise,” His hand left your arm and trailed up your shoulder and rested on your throat, “I will make certain that you not the faculties to do so again. Understood?”

You nodded at him darkly, pressing your lips together to withhold the insults which burned to burst forth.

“Now,” He slowly rescinded his hand and turned, rounding his desk to sit once more in his tall-backed chair, a grin still maligning his features, “Let us begin.”


	10. Chapter 10

You looked at the droplets of dew frigid against your paled skin above the rope tightly binding your wrists before you. Your ankles and arms were tied as securely and you lacked more than shirt and trousers to protect you from the chill of dawn. You shivered violently against another early morning gale which reminded you of the damp glossed across your skin from a night spent on deck.

You could feel the chafe of the roughened rope against your skin, your hair hanging in sodden knots around your face. You closed your eyes, tired but having not a moment of sleep amid the ocean’s lashing. You recalled the day before, when the Major had unmasked your secret and proceeded in catechizing you. His manner was that of offense, as if he was insulted that a woman would paint herself a man. He had been severe in his questioning and your refusal to bend to his will had sharpened his mien.

Major Thranduil Elvenking. You would not forget the name after so cruel a parlay. He had introduced himself to you with pride before he began his careful ministering. He had leaned forward, his pale eyes piercing you, and asked once more where the crew of  _The Fury_  was bound for. Refusing to answer true, not that you had any idea of their destination, he had grown as impatient as before. 

He asked again.

The answer was the same and you watched his impassive face turn sinister.  _Who was the Captain of the vessel? What was the vessel’s name? What crimes had you committed as a pirate?_ All produced the same non-response. There was nothing to tell and so his frustration grew.

Tied to the front mast where you could see beyond the bow, you knew the Major would soon have these answers for himself. Despite their swift flight,  _The Fury_ had failed to evade the British Army entirely and the gap between them had shrunk. Through the lens of a scope, the moniker would be clear to see and once more, battle waited on the horizon.

Your lack of co-operation had resulted in your exile above deck. Rather than a cell like that aboard  _The Fury_ , you had been left to suffer the maelstrom of the sea as a sentence for your deceit. You had not thought you would survive the night. The dark had turned so cold that you had been certain you would freeze to death before the sun rose.

Yet, as it peeked over the horizon and illuminated the tides below, you remained painfully alive. Your head pounded from insomnia and the cold which had seeped into your bones stung. Your spine ached from being prostrated against the mast for so long and your limbs felt as if they were no long part of you. A sneeze rattled you, sending a wave of agony through you.

Without an ounce of strength left to you, you hung from your bounds weakly and surrendered to the deathly chill, shivering violently and without restraint. Not even the sound of footsteps disturbed you from your sickened haze; the blond hair, a harbinger of pain, could not shake you as it appeared before you. The long nose and silver-blue eyes of the Major floated in front of you, his thin lips forming words distorted in your throbbing ears.

“It seems your friends are not quick enough,” He teased, tilting his head at you as he felt your raw cheek with his scalding fingertips, “You do look poorly, my dear.” He smirked and his hand remained, fingers tracing the line of your jaw, “A pity it has all been for not. We shall catch the vagabonds and you will watch them atone for their crimes. A pirate’s life deserves a pirate’s death.”

You said nothing. Your frozen lips unable to do more than shiver. His hand entangled in your disheveled locks and he pulled your head back so that you looked up at him. “This is your last chance, girl. Tell us what crew we chase, tell us of their sins and you shall be absolved…you may live your days out in a cell. If I find you particularly agreeable, even a convent,” He released you and your head lolled, “A woman like you needs to be reminded of her place in this world.”

“A man like you,” You uttered through chattering teeth, your defiance rising from deep within, “Needs to be reminded that he is not God. He is but an insect doing the bidding of some uncaring monarch.”

The slap which came could not be felt and you were thankful for the cold. If you had not been frozen, it would have stung and you could picture the bruise already forming across your cheek. You felt blood dribble from your trembling lip, the metallic taste filling your mouth from the blow. You swallowed through your dry throat and coughed, a rattle scouring your lungs.

“You will yet be useful to entrapping those privateers,” He brushed his hand over his redcoat as if wiping away the filth of you, “You needn’t speak to be of service to my mission.”

He turned away and pulled from his jacket a glass, extending it to peer out over the water towards the ship which had grown ever closer. He issued a laugh which was more chilling than the air, though the sun had begun to chase away the bitterness of nightfall. “Not too long,” He muttered as he folded the telescope and replaced it in his pocket.

“I’ve a question for you, my dear,” He spun on his heel and neared once more, “Unrelated to the rascals we pursue,” He bent before you so that he looked into your eyes as you fought to keep them from rolling back in your head, “Why masquerade as a man and expose yourself to such hardship? Surely a woman need never face danger should she adhere to her proper duty.”

“Proper duty?” You rasped, “What would that be? Serving men? The years I’ve lived as my own man were better than any spent as a possessed woman. I’d gladly die knowing I did not submit.”

For a moment, a brief spark of admiration coloured the Major’s taciturn eyes. It was as if he was taken aback by your candor. That a woman, battered and nearly broken, suspended from a mast with barely more than her skin to shield her from the cold, would not waver. That even as she was caught out, staring into the abyss of her demise, that she did not shed a tear or swoon as any other would have. She merely looked back at him with a quiet courage he had not seen in even the most tenacious of men.

He did not know how often you had faced your own death. Of how you had resigned yourself to the fate by and by in the weeks before. That for most of your existence you had known the risk of living. Now, in that terminal moment, you had no fear of the unknown for all that you had known was worse than death. 

_What was it to abscond from a world of pain into that plain of unfeeling?_

As you stared into the eyes of the Major, the eternal dark seemed welcoming and you were ready.


	11. Chapter 11

Three days. The rise and fall of the sun had marked their passing in your delirium. Through the haze of sickness, you had sensed the shift of light and dark. Exposed to the mercy of the sea, you had not ceased shivering and you had no strength to hold your head up as you hung from the frontmost mast.

Elvenking’s voice had come to you at occasion though his words had been unclear. In your mind, they jumbled together and made little sense. You could feel the peeling of your skin from sun and salt and your sodden clothes were putrid from the excrement which had spilled unbidden down your legs, adding to your shame and misery.

A dark shape loomed before the bow. In your weary eyes, its form transfigured. First, a monstrous whale, opening its cavernous mouth to devour the vessel whole. Then, a towering wave that would smash it to pieces among the waves, leaving you where you had been weeks ago. At last, your vision cleared and another ship mirrored the one on which you were bound.

 _Thrain’s Fury_  had slowed to a near halt before  _The Mirkwood Rose;_  the two vessels having closed the distance to firing range. Even in your stupor, you felt the rise of despair in your stomach. You knew they could easily outrun the much larger navy ship,  _so why had they slowed their course?_

“Fear not, my dear,” Elvenking spoke from your left, “I know this ship. How well I know it, indeed.”

You could give no response through your cracked lips, fighting to raise your head. The major stepped forward with a horn in his hand, holding it to his mouth as he began his grand oration.

“Captain Oakenshield,” He boomed nonchalantly, “What chance that we should meet again.”

You could barely make out the figure of the rogue captain but sensed activity on the deck of  _The Fury_.

“I know you are not one for parlays, but I think you know as well as I that a battle would mean a decisive thrashing for you and your crew.” Elvenking continued without pause, “I think before we resort to blood, we should at least exchange a few parting words.”

Silence met the major’s goading. You heard him sigh as he turned on his heel, still speaking into the horn apathetically as he gestured to two of his men to come forward.

“If I cannot compel you to speak with me by mere invitation, I think I have someone who can,” Elvenking lowered the horn as his men worked at unknotting the ropes around you. “Hang her from the bow,” He ordered, “If he does not meet our parlay, let her perish.”

You offered no resistance as you were untied from the mast, the feel of another’s hand like embers against your frigid skin. They rebound the rope around your arms and torso so a length was left over and slowly they lowered you over the edge of the bow, dangling you from the nose of the ship. Below, the water was stony black. Your chest felt as if it would collapse and you heard shouts from across the water. The voices were distant yet familiar to your ears but the discord was split by a deep and sonourous timbre.

“If you should choose to harm her,” Oakenshield’s voice was like thunder through his horn, “Then battle should be our only choice.”

You were surprised by the weight of his threat but doubly so by the fervour of his tone. As far as you recalled, even in your state, he wouldn’t have risked single stitch on his coat for you and yet he was risking his entire ship and crew. Perhaps, you argued with yourself, it was the counsel of another. Those of his crew who had spoken to you kindly and not stalked you like some distrustful spectre.

Elvenking laughed in response to the captain, his amusement heard without amplification. The planks of the ship creaked as he neared the bow above you and you closed your eyes. Any barter would not be had and  _The Fury_  would sacrifice themselves for nothing.

“Now, Oakenshield, since you hear me, I would make a proposition,” You could hear the click of guns, both from behind you and more faintly across the water. Even as the commanders parlayed, their men prepared for war. “A pirate is to be dealt with swiftly. Death is his lot, but given the history between us, I would, on this rare occasion, settle for life imprisonment…” You heard a soft plunk in the water but you could not tell from where it came as you opened your eyes, “…if you surrender without further resistance.”

You knew the offer was a farce and you let your eyes droop. It did not matter to you the result of the battle as you die either way of the sickness building in your lungs. You heard the flurry of movement which followed the subsequent silence as it signaled  _The Fury’s_  refusal. Canons slid through their windows below and both commander’s shouted orders to their men.

A sizzle sounded amidst the hue and cry and you looked to the water where a floating form appeared beside  _The Fury_. A smallboat petered forward, wisps of grey smoke rising from it’s benches. As it reached the bow of _The Mirkwood Rose_ , it remained unnoticed and began to billow black clouds. You could have smiled at the trick the pirates had borrowed from you, though you could not be certain it would work a second time.

As the thick smoke filled the air and your eyes began to burn, Elvenking swore from above, cursing the pirates and warning his own men of the trap. Coughing followed and canons were ruled inert as their target was curtained by the soot. Over your head you felt the rope tug and the major hollered, “Cut her loose.”

You were unable to grasp the order before it was followed and you were tumbling through the air before you plunged into the icy waters below. With your arms still bound, you could only wriggle and kick in the waves and you knew the end was nigh. Time seemed to slow as bubbles filled your vision and water choked you, invading your already belaboured lungs.

The water stirred beside you, the muted sound the breaking of the water’s surface, and a hand close around your elbow. You were pulled upwards as your vision began to fade, the arm which wrapped around your waist a beacon of warmth against you. As you rose above the water with a harrowing gasp, your eyes rolled back and you succumbed to the darkness.


	12. Chapter 12

Thorin shuddered as he broke the water’s surface, the tide nearly pushing him back down in the small expanse between the warring ships. The motionless body he held in his arms added to the iciness spreading through him. He reached to the rope tied tightly around his torso, a single arm holding the woman against him as the response came from the other end. His crew reeled him in like a fish and he dangled above the waters, slowly drawn up towards the boat’s rail.

Y/N felt as if she would slip away before he was pulled to safety and he clung to her desperately. Her body was heavier from her drenched clothing, as little as it was, and he feared she would fall back to the waves. Amidst his dread, his concern for the woman confounded him. He had wondered at her presence in his mind often in the last week, unable to rid her from his thoughts.

He looked down at her tangled hair and he thought of another head of messy locks. Another who he had carried away from a vicious attack.

The crewmen could be heard groaning as they pulled the rope further, a thick hand reaching down to grab Thorin’s and lug him over the rail. Dwalin dropped the captain unceremoniously onto the deck, the woman landing atop him, his arm still around her. Y/N’s head lolled across Thorin’s shoulder and he sat up, turning her over, despairing that she had drowned before he had reached her.

Thorin felt het neck for a pulse, finding it faint but steady, and the subtle rise of her chest assured him that she had not swallowed much water. She was alive. Barely.

To his own surprise, Thorin’s hand was trembling as he reached up to touch her stony cheek, her lips tinted a sickly blue and her flesh icy beneath his fingertips. It may already be too late to save her from the torment of her captivity.  _Had he waited too long to face Elvenking?_

A hand rested on Thorin’s shoulder, gentler than the last and he looked up to find Balin gazing down at the woman with tremulous eyes.

“We’ve still work to do, Captain,” Balin said softly, “Give me the girl and command your men. They need you more than her.”

Thorin reluctantly allowed Balin to take Y/N from his lap, looking after the elder crewmate as he carried her to through his cabin door. The captain stood and turned to his crew, trying to push the woman from his mind. She would be dead either way if they did not elude their enemy.

“Well,” Oakenshield boomed at the staring men, watching him expectantly, “The sails! This wind won’t last.” He glanced over at the smoke shielding them from Elvenking’s ship, “Cannons! Now!” A flurry of movement shattered the tableau of his rescue, “Musket! Covering fire!”

Thorin took up his own firearm, distracting himself with the tedium of loading the gun with ball and shot. He aimed the barrel towards the smoke, picturing the Major at the other end of it. Elvenking’s face contorted in his mind to the scarred complexion of Azog and the captain pulled the trigger with spite. If only a single shot would rid him of both.

A volley followed his shot and he leaned his empty musket against his shoulder as he rose and ordered his men to reload.  _Thrain’s Fury_ veered as the sails caught the wind, curving with its force and for a moment, the captain was hopeful. Then, the counter to their blind attack burst through the smoke.

Shrapnel flew up around Thorin as bullets pelted the deck. The captain nearly stumbled as the discharge of cannons from below rattled the ship in turn. The artillery of  _The Fury_  was met by that of  _The Rose_ , a cannon ball flying over Thorin’s head and grazing across the front mast.

 _The Fury_  was turning quickly but Thorin worried it was not quick enough. Their luck against Azog may not hold against Elvenking. Another lead ball crashed into the rail, splintering the wood, a gaping hole left in its stead. Thorin ducked intuitively, pulling Ori away from the blast with him. He released the smaller man swiftly and continued to the bow as it swerved across the water.

They had changed course with more ease than he could have wished and taken minimal damage. If they could hasten their escape, Thorin thought,  _The Fury_ and its crew might just withstand the barrage.

Y/N may live yet.

* * *

 _The Mirkwood Rose_  had faded into the horizon,  _Thrain’s Fury_ a wounded carcass atop the rising waves. A single mast had been toppled in the melee and hole smattered both rail and siding of the great ship. The only solace Captain Oakenshield could take from the disastrous offensive was that they had dealt as much damage as they had suffered.

Even so,  _The Fury_  was not so well equipped as a navy vessel to recover their losses and the crew had endured their own wounds. Bofur had shrapnel in his knee, Nori burned his hands on an overworked cannon, and Fili had received a bullet to his elbow. All would survive… _but one._

Having cleared the battleground, the winds had carried  _The Fury_  directly into a storm. The winds lashed violently at the torn sails and the thunder stirred the ocean wildly. Those crew who were not recovering were below deck, ready to bail out any water which flooded through the holes which marked their recent battle. Their new foe would be the sea itself.

Dwalin stood watch over the writhing waters, set to retreat below and order the men to their pails. Thorin wordlessly approached and set his hand on his shoulder, giving a mournful grimace to the sea. The Captain crossed his arms and planted himself beside his oldest friend, giving a sigh to the raging night.

“Captain,” Dwalin began but flinched as he saw the wrinkle in his commander’s brow, “Thorin,” He corrected himself, “I’ve got the men in order.”

“I know,” Thorin bowed his head and dropped his arms as if unable to remain still, “This storm…”

“We’ve seen worse,” Dwalin assured, “I don’t think this storm,” He waved to the blusterous skies, “Is what truly troubles you.”

Thorin looked at Dwalin darkly, considering his old friend with chagrin. He shook his head as his lips twitched and turned his blue eyes back to the distance, the rain filling the brim of his hat, “You are infuriating, you know that?” Thorin growled, “You can be the most oblivious man and the next, you see all.”

“Aye, I’m not daft. I just usually don’t care much,” Dwalin shrugged, the jape easing the tension between them, “Go.”

“Go,” Thorin echoed, “What–”

“Ye wanted to save the girl,” Dwalin interjected, “We all did but ye went down and got her yerself.”

“She saved my life, I had to…”

“I don’t need an explanation,” Dwalin turned to Thorin, “But maybe ye do. Now, go. Oin’ll have done well for the girl and you should be there when she wakes.”

With that, Dwalin clapped his old friend on the back and left him standing at the bow. He could not be fretting over two storms at once.


	13. Chapter 13

Thorin stood before the door of his cabin, a hand set on the salt-stained wood as he pondered knocking. The thunder overhead and the thrashing waves below had him as off-kilter on his feet as he felt inside. Slowly, he lowered his arm to grip the handle but quickly rescinded it. He was afraid to open the door and find himself to have been too late.

Another woman’s suffering would weigh heavy across his shoulders.

The door opened before he could lift his hand once more and rap his knuckles against it. Balin stood before him, his glossy blue eyes tired but alert. He stepped back wordlessly to let the Captain step into the room and Thorin entered, avoiding a look towards the desk where the woman laid unmoving.

Turning his back to the grim centerpiece, he looked to Balin with despair. Thorin was tempted to rip open the door and throw himself back into the storm. He removed his sodden hat, water dripping from the brim and hung it on the wall. Next he removed his jacket, setting it aside with his hat, mustering a sigh of dread for his lack of words.

“Thorin,” Balin’s hand was on his shoulder as Thorin swept back his hair, “Whether you look at the girl or not, her state remains unchanged.”

“I know,” Thorin rasped, looking to the elder crewmate, “Is she alive?”

“Just so,” Balin answered sullenly, “Thorin, it’s not your fault. As Dis was not your fault.”

“Dis…” Thorin hissed and closed his eyes against the stabbing in his chest, “I know but…I should never have let it happen.”

“You cannot know all,” Balin pressed on Thorin’s shoulder, making him turn towards the prone woman, wrapped in a woolen blanket atop the captain’s desk, “You cannot have known what would happen to her…we did more for her than others would. If it weren’t for us, for you, despite your stubbornness, she’d have never made it to port.”

“And what came of taking her to port?” Thorin maligned, “I led her straight into Elvenking’s clutches.”

“That man…” Balin shook his head, “You cannot be held to atone for the depravity of others. But you should be proud of what you’ve done, Thorin,” Balin neared the desk, the woman’s breath coming shallow to her chest, “You dived in after her. You saved her life.”

“For how long,” Thorin’s shoulders slumped as he inched towards Y/N, “What did Oin say?”

“Her lungs are weak and we’ve not been able to warm her,” Balin motioned the brazier burning in the corner of the room, “Lung fever, likely.”

“She’s as good as dead,” Thorin felt as if had been struck, leaning against the edge of the desk, forcing himself to look at the woman’s greying face, “On a ship…with this storm…” Thorin looked at the ceiling as thunder clapped above, “We’ve no where to go. We cannot do anything for her atop the sea and no land would have us alive.”

Silence overtook the small cabin. Even the storm seemed muted by the solemn reality of the woman before them. Balin bowed his head and pulled the blanket higher over her throat, feeling her forehead, which was coated in an icy sweat. He wondered why it was that superstition declared her sex misfortune on the sea, when it seemed the sea brought misfortune for her sex.

“Sit with her,” Balin advised as he turned, “Watch over her. We’ll find a way.”

Thorin shook his head but rounded the desk nonetheless. He lowered himself into the chair on the other side of the woman, where she had sewn up his shoulder for him. He sighed as Balin’s footsteps neared the door and he closed his eyes to the tragedy before him.

“Rum,” He commanded, “Before you leave.”

Balin’s footsteps tramped towards him and the clunk of the half-empty bottle followed. Thorin sensed the warmth of his companion’s hand hovering over his shoulder but it quickly rescinded. He listened to Balin walk away and the clatter of the door as it opened and shut, leaving the captain alone in his grief.

He opened his eyes, staring at the brown jug before him just beside Y/N. He reached up and took it from the desk, resting it on his knee as he uncorked it. He lifted it to his lips and swigged it without restraint, the alcohol burning his throat. He lowered the jug and held it steady by its short neck, looking over Y/N’s inanimate features.

The memories came rushing over him as her profile reminded him of his very own sister. Though when Dis had laid before him thus, her eyes had been open but frantic, searching around desperately for assailant. She had not realised her safety, that her very own brother had carried her from Azog’s galley. Then,  _Thrain’s Fury_  had been called  _Thrain's Honour_ and the crewmembers had been merchants. 

When Thorin had been an honest man untouched by the cruelty of pirates.

Thorin took another gulp and savoured the sear of the rum as it warmed his chest and stomach. He felt groggy as he continued to drink and, his eyes never leaving Y/N, he fell into a heavy slumber, his snores adding to the cacophony of the storm. The violent tumble of the ship doing little against his dreamless sleep.

He awoke to a calm which set him to fright. He sat up straight, the empty jug bouncing onto the floor but not shattering. He stood slowly, his balance easy against the ship’s subtle sway. He neared Y/N’s head, the whisper of her breath the only sound in the cabin. There was more colour to her cheeks though the brazier had burned out but her brow was still shiny with sweat.

A knock kept him from touching her forehead, from feeling the frigidity of her flesh. He snapped away the hand he had not realized he had raised and strode to the door, his head swimming from the aftermath of his drinking. He pulled open the door to find Dwalin with glass in hand, gripping it tightly as his grey eyes glowed with peculiarity.

“There’s a ship,” He announced, “A barge.”

“And?” Thorin grumbled. Of the vessels they had met in the last weeks, none had boded well and he was in no hurry to be in the midst of another battle. Not when his ship was pocked already from cannons.

“A barge, Captain,” Dwalin repeated, “No cannon, no guns. It’s a fisher’s ship. There must be land near.”

Thorin stared dumbly back. Even on the smallest of isles, pirates were unwelcomed and even with a sickly woman aboard, they would not face a warm reception.

“It’s our only hope,” Dwalin pleaded, “Hers, too.”

Thorin nodded wordlessly and looked over the crewmember’s shoulder, a dark speck clear in the morning light. He gazed at the distant vessel and leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms as he tried to clear his thoughts. He should not have drunk so much rum.

Behind him, a clatter broke the silence of his inner turmoil and he turned to find a blanket writhing on the ground as Y/N struggled to sit up, her arms shaking as she lifted her torso from the floor. She looked up at the captain in confusion as he stood frozen in the doorway and she fell back heavily against the desk, shivering so violently she could not speak.

“Raise the white flag,” Thorin said quietly, “We’ve got to catch that barge.”


	14. Chapter 14

Captain Oakenshield straightened his hat as he approached the front of  _The Fury’s_  prow. He looked across the water at the broad-nosed barged which they closed in on. He could see a dark figure moving atop the vessel, calmly but hurriedly. Many would be little less than frantic to see a pirate ship closing in on them, even if they did fly a white flag.

Oakenshield inhaled as the spray of the sea dappled his cheeks and he sensed a warm presence beside him. Balin stood at his side, a hand briefly on his captain’s shoulder before he made an effort to tidy his appearance. The only gentleman of the crew, even Balin could look little better than a swashbuckler.

“Why aren’t you with the woman?” Thorin asked, trying to conceal his rising anxiety, “Is she still awake?”

“No, she is not,” Balin answered solemnly, “My brother is with her. And Oin. We can do no better for her than they can. Besides, there is little help to be given if this barge turns us away.”

The captain sighed as the ship creaked below him and he lifted the carved horn to his mouth, peering over at the quiet barge. He was unsure what to say, if he could sound anything but menacing, but he knew one word could mean the death of Y/N. The horn shook in his hand as his thoughts swirled restlessly, stilled by another, more wrinkled hand.

“Let me,” Balin said softly and Thorin surrendered the horn, gulping back the words that would not come, “Pardon us, my good sir,” Balin called out as a dark head emerged from the cabin of the barge, a fishing spear held securely at the man’s side, “We hope we did not frighten you.”

“Frighten?” The response was dull, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pirate ship more pitiful…The white flag offers me comfort, though I do not trust it as I do not trust pirates.”

“As can be expected,” Balin accepted plaintively, “We would expect no different. And as you have denoted, we are in poor shape. Surely no shape to act our part.” Thorin was growing apprehensive and wished his companion would get to the matter, “In fact, we would do the last deed you would expect of our ilk.”

“Oh?” The bargeman approached the side of his vessel, keeping his spear close, “Are you to give me gold?”

“Well…” Balin’s eyes twinkled as he paused, “If you would offer us the aid we so greatly need, we would.”

“I…” The man stuttered from across the water and adjusted the spear in his hand, “Truly? What is it you seek from me?”

“I am certain you can see we are in poorly shape, our ship is fortunate to still be atop the water,” Balin explained, “But more, we have a woman aboard who has fallen quite ill. She needs warmth.” Balin paused, “She needs land.”

“And how do I know this is not some trick?”

Balin lowered the horn and nodded to Thorin, “The girl. Keep her warm but bring her.”

The captain was unused to taking orders but he obediently found his way to the cabin. Inside, the girl was laid across his desk as before, wrapped in several blankets as his two crew members watched over her. Without a word, he lifted her and they did not argue, knowing he would not move her without reason.

He passed back through the door, the woman cradled in his arms lighter than she should be. Even with the blankets wrapped around her, she was too easy to carry. Thorin stopped beside Balin as he stared across at the bargeman pleadingly. Hopefully he did not think Y/N dead as she certainly felt it.

“She has lung fever,” Balin announced, “She cannot stay much longer on the sea.”

A silence rose, the sound of water slapping against wood filled the void. The bargeman slowly lowered his spear, letting it lean against the side of the ship.

“This woman…” The bargeman began, “You raise the white for her?”

“We do,” Balin answered solemnly, “We are pirates, yea, but we are not without heart. We would ask a warm hearth for her to recover and place to hide our ship so that we may do the same. We would offer gold and whatever else you would have.”

“I could be hung for associating with your kind,” The bargeman protested, “I wouldn’t think any price in gold worth my life.”

“Then just take the girl,” Thorin shouted across the water, “Please. Take her and see her well.”

Thorin felt Balin’s eyes on him and the surprise of his crew as they watched the exchange from behind. The bargeman tilted his head as he considered the captain of  _The Fury_  and turned his back to them, looking around his own vessel.

“Alright,” The bargeman called across, looking back to the pirate ship, “Take down that absurd statue. If you can make yourselves look as merchants, I will accept your barter…for the sake of the woman.”

Thorin’s lips twitched and he felt a blooming in his chest. He hugged the woman’s form close to him as he turned back to the cabin and looked to Balin’s cheerful eyes. “Thank you,” He said, knowing he could not have convinced the man with his own roughened words.

“Well, ye rascals,” Dwalin had emerged from the cabin, calling out as Thorin passed him to return the girl within, “Get to work. Tear down that statue and strip yeselves of ye gaudy ornaments.”

The second mate removed his bandana and the jacket which betrayed his illicit means. His tattoos could not be hidden but none were peculiar enough to be unusual to any sailor. The others turned their attentions to the bearded statue and Thorin set down the woman gently, sweeping her hair away from her forehead.

“Watch over her closely,” He ordered Oin as he retired his hat, tossing it aside as he marched to the door, “We’ve come so close, she cannot die now.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

_Thrain’s Fury_ , now a nameless trader ship, trailed after the trawling barge towards a small isle city shrouded in fog. Captain Oakenshield and his crew had stripped themselves of arms and ornaments and looked little better than a crew of hard-done merchants.  _The Fury_  gaped with the holes left from battle and the fallen mast slumped over the husk of a ship. To any, the vessel would seem little more than sailors beset by the cruelty of privateers. None would guess that it was quite the opposite.

Above rose a gate carved in salt-stained pine bearing the moniker of “Laketown”. Narrow passes flowed from the open sea to the winding shales of the island city, an offshoot of the nearest continent. The bargeman, who had introduced himself as Bard, pushed his ship through the crooked arch with a long paddle, stirring the dark waters that ran under the leaning houses looming around them.

He was greeted by a greasy looking man with a single dark brow, one who spoke with suspicion but offered no obstacle to the bargeman’s course. He swallowed the explanation of the stranded merchants on their shambled trader with a scoff but did not argue further, instead scurrying away with a conspiring skip. 

Thorin looked to his second mate and Dwalin growled at the faces which peaked through windows to observe the curious strangers accompanied by the stern mariner.

The barren pirate ship towered over the barge and the walkways of the damp city, barely able to manoeuvre the narrow canals. Bard led them down the main waterway, carefully directing them towards the docks where they could moor their scarred vessel. 

As the crew tied off The Fury, the Captain shouted orders, assigning Nori and his brothers to take watch for the first day. There was too much risk to be had of an overly curious townsperson inspecting their cargo; especially, that weasel with the furry unibrow.

The ramp was lowered as the Captain entered his cabin and scooped up the lifeless woman from across his desk. He kept the threadbare blanket wrapped around her figure as the medic awoke from the slumber he had sunk into during his vigil over her. Oakenshield was the first to stamp down onto the docks, eager to get Y/N sheltered. He was so near to her salvation, he felt it slipping away by the second.

The bargeman tarried on his deck as the pirates gathered on the dock and Thorin worried that they had walked into some trap. He held Y/N closer, her cheek against his shoulder and a hand settled on his other. Balin squeezed his Captain’s shoulder and nodded towards the barge as Bard appeared at the mouth of the ramp. Huddled behind him were three small figures; children who hid around him like frightened mice.

“He has children,” Dwalin’s mouth fell open at the observation, “He took greater danger than we know in aiding us.”

“That he did,” Thorin sighed, the guilt crawling up his spine. It was peculiar sensation which had only recently returned to him. Amidst the discord of the past weeks, the empathy he had retired so long ago had reappeared, eating away at the soul he had thought lost to the cruel seas, “Try not to scare them further…Bofur, none of your silly tales and Dwalin,” The captain looked to his companion, “Try to smile.”

A growl answered Thorin’s second order but the pirates bowed their heads as they watched the children descend after their father. Bard approached Oakenshield, his children shying away but eyeing the crew with the curiosity of their youth. “These are my children and I will not have your men treating them roughly, do you understand me? If I were to tell any of your true character, you’d be strung up by the morrow. All of you.”

“We would never,” Thorin vowed, lowering his eyes sorrowfully. To think that any would think him capable of harming the innocent. He was a pirate but he was still a man, “We only want to see her well,” He lifted Y/N slightly, “We’ve seen far too much savagery to stomach any more.”

“Just know, I stick to my word,” The bargeman warned, “I am welcoming you into my home at great risk to not only myself but to them,” He let the youngest of the children tug on his hand as he spoke, “I will not hesitate to protect them.”

“We understand,” Thorin looked around at his men, none of them maligned towards the children. Rather, every member of the crew resisted the urge to smile at the young ones.

There were those rare times, when not upon the sea, when these men were not pirates but fathers, uncles, and sons. They had their own families which they had left behind but whom they still remembered. Still visited them when not evading the navy or scavenging the waters. Life had led them astray in their ventures but not in their hearts. They were all pained at the reminder of the loved ones so far away.

“We have no weapons upon us and no reason for ill-will,” Balin offered, palms open peaceably, “We are at your mercy, you are not at ours.”

“Very well,” The bargeman accepted, herding his children ahead of him up the dock, “Follow me. And keep your heads down.”

* * *

_The endless void into which you had fallen receded to a thick fog. Before you, the light came clearer and your thoughts returned in a panoply of confusion. The heaviness in your limbs slowly lessened but your head felt as if it were being crushed. Your eyes stung as consciousness pricked at your being and your heart raced as your memories awakened._

_The last you recalled you were bound to the mast of The Mirkwood Rose, the deep voice of Major Elvenking a constant shadow over you. You had been certain of your death and you wondered if this was not limbo. Had you finally arrived at the doors of purgatory to await your final fate?_

_You breathed in, shuddering as the air burned your lungs and you coughed violently, your body barely a wisp smothered beneath a suffocating weight. You forced open your eyes, your vision cloudy, and you pinched the woolen blankets between your fingers, unable to pull your arm from under the covers. You coughed again and it felt as if glass had caught in your throat._

_A dark form moved in the corner of your eyes and the figure stood, nearing to tower over you. Your breath picked up, causing you to hack uncontrollably in fear, and a violent shiver overtook your body. Your lungs rattled and your bones ached. You turned your head from side to side, trying to clear your vision until the face came clear before you._

_Major Elvenking stared down at you with his menacing eyes and you were suddenly paralyzed with fear. You could not still be alive. This must be that wicked underworld that sinners were sentenced to. He reached out to lay an icy hand upon your shoulder and you tried to scream, only to erupt in another fit of croup._

_“Let me be, please,” You begged between coughs, freeing yourself of your paralysis to thrash violently below the blankets, tossing them back with the last of your strength, “Let me be, you beast!” You shouted and it tore at your scorched throat, “Demon! Away with you! Away!”_

_You batted Elvenking’s hand away weakly before once more overcome in a frenzy of coughs. Your arm fell back weakly as all your energy seeped away and you lay prone, breath heavily, painfully across the bed of thorn below you. Your eyes closed and tears rose, burning your cheeks as they fell._

_If this was not death, you prayed the rising darkness was._


	16. Chapter 16

Thorin slumped in the rickety chair, his shoulders to his ears, arms crossed over his chest, as he half-slumbered in the ill-lit chamber. The single lantern glowed amber and the small hearth added to the damp warmth which had filled the space. He had not truly slept in days, neither aboard  _The Fury_  nor in the shelter of the bargeman’s home.

The bed creaked and Thorin snorted sharply, sitting up as the gaunt figure moved atop the mattress. Y/N was supported by a pile of pillows and tucked beneath a heavy duvet. The medic had feared she would suffocate in her sleep, though at times, her breath seemed to subside altogether. In several instances, the captain had crept closer to assure himself of the rise and fall of her chest.

With a stifled groan, he stood and neared the bed as Y/N began to turn her head back and forth frantically, her eyes open for the first time since she was aboard the ship. She began to shiver as she looked at him with fear in her eyes. Recognition lit in her and she erupted in a violent fit of coughs. She sputtered as he reached out to try to calm her, laying his hand on her shoulder as her frail body shuddered.

“Let me be, please,” She begged, fighting to free herself from the thick blanket, “Let me be, you beast! Demon, away with you! Away!”

She pulled her hand from below the duvet and flung his away from her shoulder, tears running down her cheeks as she closed her eyes. The door opened and Balin entered, looking down at the woman as he neared. Thorin stood horrified before the bed. Y/N had seemed to know him and yet she had reacted so appallingly. 

_Had he been so terrible to her?_

“I…” He turned to Balin as he felt her forehead and her head lolled once more in comatose, “I didn’t…She was so afraid of me, but–”

Thorin felt as if he had been struck. He backed away from the bed as if afraid she would awake and wail once more. Balin removed his attention from the girl and turned to his captain as he cowered, disgusted with himself.

“She doesn’t know where she is,” He consoled Thorin, “She doesn’t know who you are.”

“No, no, she must have,” Thorin protested, “I saw it in her eyes…she was so afraid.” He turned away, “Of me!”

“The girl is sickly and cannot see clear,” Balin assured, “She could not say where she was aboard  _The Fury_ , surely she could not now.”

“Do not lie to me,” Thorin dropped into the chair, hanging his head darkly, “I know what I am. What I’ve become…as despicable as Azog.”

“Never,” Balin’s voice burned with revulsion, “Thorin, you are and ever will be the young captain I’ve followed these years past. You’ve been hardened, aye, but you’ve not been corrupted.”

“Y/N looked at me as Dis did,” Thorin bemoaned, nearly curling up in the chair as claws sunk into his chest, “I cannot live this life any longer. I’ve kept you men from your families and worst of all, I’ve let my own be maligned.”

“You’ve only ever done what is right, Thorin. I know it as well as the rest of the crew. Dis…she was not your fault and you did not fail her.”

“She cannot even look at me, Balin,” Thorin quavered, “I have looked after her sons but what good have I done them? I’ve made them into criminals, I’ve led them down the path of my own spite.”

“You did what you could for Dis and for Y/N,” Balin affirmed, “Neither would be alive without you.” He neared Thorin and touched his shoulder, “But maybe it’s time you thought about taking care of yourself. You cannot blame yourself from the crimes of others.”

“You didn’t see her eyes,” Thorin looked up pleadingly, “You didn’t see the way she looked at me…She’s dying and it’s all my fault.”

Thorin stood suddenly, brushing past Balin as he fled, trying to hide the tears which had suddenly overcome him. All the pain he had withheld for years had boiled over and he could not longer keep them buried. He pulled open the door and lumbered down the hallway, his vision blurred as he barreled out the back and down the stairs.

A pirate he had become, through and through.

* * *

Balin watched Thorin flee the room, making no move to stop the distraught man. For years, he had watched his captain put on a veneer and suppress the tragedies of his life. The woman lying across the bed seemed to be some fateful reminder. Had it not been for her appearance, he would have watched Thorin continue to sink into bitterness until no trace of him remained.

The white-haired crewmate recalled the memory of his captain, when he was but a merchant, carrying the debilitated body of his sister in his arms. The sinister glean which had come anew to his once sparkling eyes. The vow of vengeance he had sworn as Dis had awoken in shrieks and had not been able to silence them. The madness which had stolen from her brother and sons the woman she had once been.

Then,  _Thrain’s Fury_  had only been called  _Thrain’s Honour._  It had not borne the sigil of privateers nor the statue of an angry mariner. It had traded in goods from dyed cloth, indigo, and even salted meat. It had sailed across the water, merry and prosperous. The crew had sung and toiled in bliss. That was until Azog had introduced himself and stolen the captain’s sister.

Balin sat on the edge of the bed, taking the hand of the inert woman in his. She reminded him of Dis and likely she did the same to Thorin. She had the spirit once possessed of the woman, the determination of one spurned by what was expected of her. And she bore the same scars as that woman. The same injustice.

He wondered if the result would be different however. Would she have the strength to recover her former self? Or would she awaken with the same lunacy? She had opened her eyes in sickened delirium but he could not be assured it was not insanity. He could not fault her if she returned lesser than she was.

Balin bowed his head and said a prayer. In time, he would go find his captain but for now, he would leave him to his melancholy. Thorin needed to be alone. He needed to find himself amidst the rancor which had overcome his being.


	17. Chapter 17

The scrape of metal woke you at last from your hazy and nightmare filled stupor. You found yourself propped up against a pile of musty smelling pillows atop a lumpy bed. A slender shadow was bent over the small fireplace, sweeping the errant ash into a bucket. She was a young girl, though you could not see her face, her blond hair curling at the ends, and she moved with the grace of a cat.

“H-hello?” You called out weakly, confused as to how you had wound up there.

The most you could recall were flashes; plunging into the icy waters, falling from a desk as your legs tangled in a ratty blanket, awakening to the sight of Elvenking looming over you. With the last image, your heart picked up and you tried to sit up. You fell into a coughing fit as you searched around for any sight of the silver-haired major but there was only the girl.

She turned to you as you hacked, her eyes round and bright. She pushed away a stray lock of hair, leaving a streak of soot across her rosy cheek.

“Calm down,” She neared, meekly but with an air of comfort, “Please, you’ll choke.”

“Wh-where am I?” You looked to the door despairingly. You did not feel strong enough to even drag yourself from the bed. If Elvenking had brought you here in some cruel game, you’d never escape him.

“Laketown,” She answered as if it should have been obvious, “The pirates brought you.”

“The pirates?” You stared at her helplessly.

“My da is helping them with their boat,” She explained as she twiddled her fingers shyly, “And you…you been real sick.”

“Oh,” You lowered your gaze to your own hands, gaunt and paled in the dim light.

“I’ll go get one of them, they can help you better than me,” She backed away as her voice trembled, “Sorry.”

She fled quickly through the door, as if afraid of you, and you listened to her footsteps hammer down the hallway. Shortly after, another person approached with a steady pace, knocking before they entered slowly. Balin’s white hair shone in the lantern light as he smiled at you, his steps quickening as he neared. He sat carefully on the edge of the mattress and touched your forehead kindly.

“My dear, you’re awake,” He took your hand in his and you squeezed it in turn, “I knew it.”

“Thank god, Balin,” You could have kissed him but instead you coughed, “I thought…” You inhaled sharply at the thought of the major, anger sparking inside of you, “If I ever meet Elvenking again, I’m going to kill him.”

“Y/N,” Balin said in shock, “You cannot be so vengeful. After all you’ve survived, you have much to be thankful for.”

“I don’t care,” Your rage was blinding the more you thought of Elvenking, “I’ve never wanted anyone dead more than him. What he did to me…”

“I know, dear, I know,” Balin breathed empathetically, “I’m sorry you had to endure that. We all are.”

“I’m surprised you saved me at all,” You hung your head as you sunk into the pillows, drained from your sudden bout of anger, “I’d thought Oakenshield would’ve have been more concerned with catching the wind.”

“No, dear, he…he saved you,” Balin shook his head, “He dived in himself and dredged you up from the waters. I daresay, if it weren’t for him, you’d be dead.”

“Truly?” You asked searchingly, “Why?”

“He’s a complicated man but not a heartless one,” Balin sighed and looked to your hand in his, “I’m afraid the past has finally caught up to him…you’re not the first woman he’s seen suffer.” He peeked over his shoulder as if to make sure the door was closed, “It is why he was so cold to you. He’s knows the dangers of the sea, especially to your sex.”

You watched Balin’s blue eyes as they sparkled with a glimmer of mourning. You wanted to ask who Oakenshield had lost but you did not want to pry. You feared the question would be the last straw. That after all the crew had done for you, that unveiling the past would be too much.

“It was Thorin’s sister, Dis,” He swallowed as he began, “She was, er, is, like my own daughter.  _The Fury_  was a ship like any other, like the very one Azog sunk beneath your own two feet,” Balin’s eyes clouded with memories, “Azog did worse than sink us. He captured the ship. He tried to break Thorin but the man’s always been too stubborn for his own good.”

Balin hung his head and sniffed, wiping away a tear as it trickled down his nose.

“He took Dis. He tortured her…ravaged her. We couldonly hear his cruelty. Her screams…her own sons were only boys. We told them to cover their ears, but…She was not meant to be there but she was headed home and we in the same direction.” He looked up at last, his face streaked with tears, “Thorin blamed himself. He had convinced her to save her coin and travel with us. And she was not the same after. She was fractured and her boys were without their mother. She did not have the facility to raise them, she couldn’t even feed herself or leave her bed.

“Azog left us without our wares and without money. Without our spirit,” Balin closed his eyes as you reached up shakily to brush away one of his tears, “It was a fate worse than death.”

There was nothing you could say. The aged crewmember wept silently before gathering himself at last, and climbing to his feet. He looked down at you ruefully, “You’ve not yet been broken, my dear,” He bowed his head, “But our captain, my friend, Thorin, he’s close to…he needs you. Don’t let the anger define you.”

“Where is he?” You spoke at last through your dry throat.

“Hiding,” His lips twitched, “From you. He has convinced himself that you hate him. That what happened to you is his fault. As he did with his sister.”

“Well, I want to speak with him,” You declared, “To thank him. Can you help me?”

“Aye, I think I can,” He nodded as his smile returned, “Let me fetch my brother.”


	18. Chapter 18

Dwalin marched through the musty streets of Laketown, head low like a bull as he searched out his target. He knew he would find the captain where he always did these last days. He trod up the ramp of Thrain’s Fury, his footsteps hammering across the deck as he peered into the empty cabin. Of course, Thorin would not have ventured above deck. Not when the sun could be seen through the thinning clouds.

The first mate disappeared through the hatch, surpassing the barren cells towards the sound of work closer to the bow. Thorin stood with his back to the door, measuring boards against the cracked hull. There were more in the stern, Dori and his brothers, Bofur and Bifur too, but the captain refused any help. He sequestered himself, wallowing in his misery, as he refused to leave the ship he seemed determined to make his casket.

As Dwalin ducked under a low beam, Thorin turned and caught sight of his closest mate. His blue eyes were placid, unfeeling as he continued at his work without a word. Dwalin sighed and hooked his thick thumbs in his belt. He planted his feet and watched the captain go about his near-frantic pace.

“Thorin,” He forced out though he felt as if he would choke; he had not often seen his friend in such a state, “She’s awake.”

Thorin turned, a board nearly slipping from his hand. He coughed and nodded, looking back to the wooden plank and carried on his work. Dwalin frowned. He had thought the news would bring clarity back to the captain’s maddened gaze but it only seemed to fuel his lunacy. The man barely ate though his first mate brought him meals thrice a day. Often the dishes went untouched and the food left to the flies.

“She wants to see ye,” He offered; not a flinch from the captain. Dwalin watched Thorin continue as if he had not heard him and it infuriated him, superseding the pity he felt for his comrade. “Goddammit, Thorin, look at me!”

Dwalin’s voice bounced off the hull thunderously and the captain finally ceased his fretting. Thorin turned, shaking his head pleadingly. “Please, don’t make me. I can’t face…her.”

“Ye would refuse her after she’s suffered this last fortnight,” Dwalin countered, “Thorin, ye have to stop blaming yerself.”

“I can’t,” Thorin tossed aside the board in his hand, grasping at his hair desperately, “Please. You don’t know…she told me to go, so I went. Don’t you understand? She called me a demon, she looked at me as if I were worse. The reason she’s been so close to death, it’s all my fault. I should have listened to the rest of you…” Thorin grunted as he kicked another plank, splitting it in two, “I am a demon! I bring nothing but despair to those around me.”

“Thorin, ye listen to me, and ye listen to me well,” Dwalin tramped over to his friend, seizing him by the shoulders to still him, “I’ve known ye near my whole damned life and I wouldn’t trade those years for nothing. The other men’d say the same. Now ye put yeself together and ye go see the lass. She’s asking for ye. If ye wanna do right by her, ye best start listening to her.”

“I…” Thorin’s blue eyes searched Dwalin’s wildly before he tore himself away, “No, I just can’t…I’m busy. We’ve got to fix the ship.”

“Yer a fool,” Dwalin boomed, “And I never thought I’d say so but ye a coward!”

Dwalin waited for his captain’s furious reply but none came. Thorin had returned to his sombre silence, he retrieved a board from the pile and began to fit it along the tear in the hull. His first mate swallowed his anger and turned on his heel. He had anyone so shattered since Dis and that was a tragedy he could not face again.

* * *

Balin had forced you to drink the thin broth he had requested of the young girl who had been the first to greet you. Sigrid was the daughter of the bargeman whose house you lingered in. Balin recounted the time which had passed since your plunge into the ocean and it only fed the anger roiling within. You could think of little but your hatred for the Elvenking. That and Thorin.

You would have never thought the man would risk capture to save you. He had proven himself an honourable pirate but it did little to cull the feeling that he distrusted you. You had been certain he did for how eager he was to have you away from his ship. Yet, what Balin had revealed to you of the past lent new sense to his intent.

When you set aside your bowl, you pushed back the blankets but found yourself keeling over from the excess. Dizziness overtook you as you were just becoming aware of how dire your illness had been and still was. Balin rushed over to help you sit up as you tried to push him away, arduous angling your legs over the edge of the mattress.

“Dear, I don’t think that it wise,” He kept a hand on your shoulder, “It will be some time until you can walk on your own again.”

“I know, I know,” You wheezed as a coughing fit overcame you, “I just can’t stay in this bed anymore.”

“Fair enough,” Balin bowed his head, “You just let me help.”

He stood, hooking his arms below your shoulders as he lifted you to your feet and guided you carefully to a chair. You fell back with a sigh and he smiled down at you. “You alright, dear?”

“Just fine,” You waved him away, “I seem to have had worse.”

“Let me just get this fire burning a bit warmer,” Balin spread a blanket across your legs before turning to stoke the hearth.

“Thank you,” You felt horrid for being so helpless, “Truly.”

“Not at all,” He stood and turned back to you, “You remind me of my daughter…the one I told you about.”

“I only wish I could say my father was so kind as you,” You leaned your head back, trying not to think of the man, “I wish…”

A knock sounded, keeping you from your dark thoughts and Balin rushed to open the door. His brother appeared on the other side and lumbered through with a glower. “I can’t believe the donkey,” He slammed his fist into his other hand, “I asked him but ye know how he’s been. So, I told him and he still won’t—Oh, god, sorry, lass,” He noticed you in the chair as he nearly stomped on your foot, “I didn’t even see ye there. I thought ye’d be sleeping and…I don’t think Thorin will be coming.”

“No?” You had been convinced Thorin would have been on the other side of that door, “Why not?”

“To be straight with ye, he hasn’t got the time for no one these days,” Dwalin pulled up as chair and sat in it heavily, “Goddamn, horse’s arse is what he is.”

You could have laughed for how angry the man was if it wasn’t for the news he brought. You didn’t even notice Balin hand on yours as he squeezed it gently. “He’ll come…eventually.”

“Balin,” Dwalin gave him a terse look as if to reprimand a lie.

“Well I’ll not wait either way,” You declared, “I will see him today.”

“And how’s that, lass?” Dwalin scoffed, “I don’t think I could drag him here if I tried.”

“Perhaps, but you look strong enough to carry me,” A grin tugged at the corners of your mouth, “Wouldn’t you say?”

“No,” Balin said, “You’ve only just awoken, dear, and you can’t be going out into the damp. You’re still sick.”

“I don’t care,” You forced yourself to sit up straight with a grunt, “You’re going to take me to Thorin or I’ll find my own way.”

You stared at the brothers as they exchanged a look, one you had often seen them trade behind the back of their captain. You let your smirk break through, knowing you had won. You could be just as stubborn as Oakenshield and he would find that out shortly.


	19. Chapter 19

Balin had made sure to bundle you up before allowing his brother to even touch you. You wore two tunics, a pair of thick trousers which were a bit too long for your legs, three sets of stockings and leather boots. Over top of that, you wore a lined cloak and were wrapped in a thick quilt. Even as Dwalin carried you out the door and down the creaky steps of the bargeman’s house, you were sweating beneath all your layers.

You felt weak as you were cradled in his thick arms and your chest rattled with coughs every now and then. The streets were damp and fog rose above the water as you came in sight of the dock.  _Thrain’s Fury_  bobbed at the end of the pier, stripped of all ornaments, and still bearing the scars of battle. You held tightly to Dwalin as he climbed the ramp, looking down at the water with a shiver.

You had not feared the depths before, even as you floated on a stray board towards your death. Yet peering down at the swirling foam, it returned you to the plunge you had taken from the  _Mirkwood Rose_. The dread and resignation which had overcome you. Death had been assured to you and you had accepted it. It should have been the end.

If it had not been for Oakenshield, it would have been. You still could not fathom what had driven him to save you a second time. It just didn’t make sense.

Dwalin ducked his head as he descended the steep stairs which led below deck, his hold on you growing closer. You passed the same cell you had first languished in aboard _The Fury_ , nearly chuckling as you recalled locking the very man who carried you within. He grunted and you looked up as him curiously.

“I see ye smiling,” He grumbled, “Don’t think I don’t know what yer thinking.”

“Sorry,” You lowered your chin guiltily, “I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t forced me to.”

“Sure,” He shook his head as he angled you through the doorway, the sound of hammering growing as he went.

He stopped near the nose of the ship, the clanging echoing along the wooden hull as Oakenshield set nail to board. His broad shoulders faced you as he worked and Dwalin set you down carefully upon a stray crate, making sure to steady you before he turned away.

“Captain,” He called to the dark-haired man consumed by his toil.

“I’m busy, Dwalin,” He called over his shoulder, keeping his eyes set on his hammer, “Shouldn’t you be?”

“Ahem,” You cleared your throat, more so to rid the lump of phlegm than to draw his attention, “Too busy to come visit me?”

Oakenshield dropped his hammer as he turned around, looking wide-eyed from Dwalin to you. You would have grinned if the sight of him was not so unsettling. There were dark-circles around his sapphire eyes and his cheeks were unnaturally gaunt. You would have dared to say he looked worse than you did.

“Thank you, Dwalin,” You reached over to touch the first mate’s hand, “But I think this is a conversation I best have with the captain alone.”

“No, thank you,” He bowed his head, “I’d rather not be present for this.”

Dwalin did not look to Oakenshield at all before he left, his shoulders set stubbornly. You knew he was still upset with the captain but that was to be dealt with in his own time. You sat as straight as you could, keeping the blanket about your shoulders as you turned to stair down Oakenshield. He was frozen in the same place with the same bewildered gape.

“Why didn’t you come?” You asked bluntly, the captain spluttering in response as he looked around desperately, “I know you’ve not much regard for me but I’d think after so lingering so close to death for so long, you’d at least do me the favour of seeing me well.”

“I-I-I’m sorry,” He pushed back his hair before lowering his hands and wringing them anxiously, “I just…couldn’t. You were so sick and it was my fault and—You’re still sick! What are you doing out here?”

“Oh, so you do care?” You tilted your head, withholding the cough scratching at your throat, “You could’ve fooled me. If Balin hadn’t told me of how you had so recklessly dived into the ocean after me, well, I’d have thought you wished me dead.”

“Never, never,” He pleaded madly, his blue eyes dodging around you, avoiding yours, “I couldn’t ever let…I’m not a monster. I’m not.”

“Thorin, ahem, I mean, would you rather me call you ‘Captain’?”

“Thorin is…fine,” He finally looked at you, “Call me Thorin.”

“I know you’re not a monster, you needn’t convince me. The reason I sent for you was to thank you, for saving me,” The blanket fell from your shoulders to your elbows and you made no move to adjust it, “Just let me have it out,” You protested before he could interrupt, his lips twitching with unsaid words, “I know what happened before with your sister but I’m not her. You had no reason to risk your ship, your life even, for me. But there  _is_  a reason.”

“Anyone would have—”

“No, they wouldn’t, especially not any pirate,” You insisted, “I don’t care why you did it, I am only grateful that you did. I am more concerned with why you’re avoiding me now.”

“You told me to leave you,” His brows crinkled with confusion, “You had awoken and you told me to go.”

“I thought you were…someone else,” You could vaguely recall the vision of Elvenking standing over you, only then realizing it had been Thorin, “Why did you save me? Truly?”

“Who did you think I was?” He countered, his blue eyes regaining their former boldness, “Y/N, was it—”

“I don’t want to talk about  _him_ ,” You pushed away the blanket, using all your energy to stand in your anger, nearly tumbling to the floor. Thorin stepped forward to catch you before you could crash into the boards, “I only want him dead.”

“Y/N, please,” Thorin stood you up, holding you by your shoulders, “You’re sick.”

“Tell me why you saved me, Thorin,” You looked at him with tears in your eyes, head spinning from your excess, “Just tell me why.”

“I…” His eyes searched your face as he fought with himself, “I…can’t.”

“I owe you my life, I’d at least know why,” You uttered, weakly trying to pry his hands from your shoulder, “You’re so-so-so….”

You struggled for words as your anger and the urge to cough kept you from the end of your sentence. Thorin’s fingers tightened on your shoulders and he sighed in resignation.

“I’m a coward and an ass. Dwalin’s already told me so,” He bowed his head, his dark lashes curtaining his eyes as he contemplated his next words, “Y/N, I had to save you…” He looked up suddenly, holding your gaze as he braced himself, “Because I love you.”


	20. Chapter 20

You stared at Thorin as the world seemed to fall out from under you. Your legs went weak, the last of your strength draining from you, and he caught you just before you could crumple to the ground. With one hand still on your shoulder and his other arm around you, he held onto you as you began to convulse in a fit of hacking.

Your breath had ceased at his confession, his words making your head spin with the delirium you had only just escaped. You held onto Thorin to keep yourself upright, trying to process what you had just heard. You had only ever expected passive acceptance from the captain, yet he had just proclaimed his love to you.

 _Love?_   _Could he truly feel so deeply for you?_  He had risked his livelihood for you, even his life, but it still seemed farfetched. You thought him bound to you through his dwindling sense of morality, that sliver left after years of privateering.  _What could you have done to make him think he could ever love you?_

“Thorin,” You spluttered as he guided you back to the crate, helping you sit down carefully as he pushed the hair away from your sweaty forehead, “I-I—”

“Y/N, you’ve got a fever still,” He cupped your cheek in his hand, “You shouldn’t be out here.”

He pulled the blanket around your shoulders and tucked it snugly under your chin. If it were not for him you would have already slumped over onto the floor. You shakily clutched at the blanket, your head spinning.  _Had he truly said it or were you so ill that you had conjured the words yourself?_

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” Thorin lifted you easily. As you leaned against his chest, cradled in his arms, you couldn’t but notice how much warmer he felt than his first mate. Perhaps it was that the air had turned icy, chilling you to the bones as you shivered uncontrollably. “Balin will have my head…”

The captain walked swiftly, passing Dwalin as he waited near the steps which led above board. The two exchanged a look, within it an unsaid conversation, nods traded between the similarly closemouthed men. You had not realised you were clinging to Thorin, grasping at him for the warmth which had seeped from you in the damp air.

Your vision blurred as the grey light of the outside touched you, the ship’s cabin a smear of dark wood. The foggy streets appeared in a haze and you closed your eyes to cull the storm of your mind. You listened to Thorin’s footsteps, counting his breaths as he carried you swiftly, jostling you slightly as he climbed a set of steep stairs and kicked a door harshly.

You opened your eyes to see a young girl that resembled the one who had been cleaning the fireplace open the door. She stepped back with a wondrous smile at the dark giant before her and stepped back for him to enter, turning sideways to angle you inside. She followed behind him in a skip and he shook his head subtly.

“Mister Captain, sir,” She sang dreamily, “I thought you were never coming back.”

“Hmm,” It almost seemed a laugh, “Tilda, you go on. You shouldn’t be hanging around us pirates.”

“That’s what Da says,” She preened, “But Bofur made me a hat and Bifur’s making me a new doll. I’d say pirates aren’t so bad.”

“Tilda,” Thorin said in a gentle but chiding voice, “Go find your sister. Ask her to brew some hot tea.”

“Yes, Captain,” The girl, Tilda, gave a flouncy curtsy and raced off.

“She sure likes y-you,” You chattered amused before a hoarse cough ripped through your throat.

“She’s too young to know what’s best for her,” He pushed into the room you had been languishing in, Balin snoring in the chair by the bed, “Balin,” The captain called to him, startling him awake, “Help me.”

Balin jumped to his feet, sprightly for an older man, and approached Thorin with urgency. He felt your forehead and bent to listen to your chest. “Get her in bed, I’ll fetch Oin.”

Thorin obeyed without a word as Balin left hastily. He dropped the blanket from around you and propped you against the pillows, pulling the covers over you so that they were to your chin. His eyes searched you frantically as your head lolled and he turned away quickly. He stomped over to the hearth, feeding it so that it roared.

The door, left ajar by the racing second mate, was opened wider as Balin re-entered followed by the grey medic who fumbled with a leather case. Oin took the chair beside you and set the case aside, looking you over dully. He stood momentarily to bend over and listen to your chest and shook his head as he sat back down. He touched your cheek and recoiled his hand with a tisk.

“She’s not going to die,” He declared with little confidence, “It’s just the illness taking its course. As I said before, she’s through the worst of it. Though I wouldn’t recommend another sojourn into the damp.”

The medic stood, his knees creaking as he groaned, and crossed to his captain. “Nice to see  _you_ back though,” He looked at him boldly, examining him as closely as he had done you, “I’d suggest the same for her as I would to you; sleep.”

“I’m fine,” Thorin grumbled, his face pallid as his fatigue returned to him.

“You’re not,” The medic clapped his shoulder, “Find a cot and lay down, man. You need it.”

With his final diagnosis, the medic trudged out of the room and another entered as he left. Sigrid balanced a tray with a steaming carafe and several cups upon it. Tilda followed at her heels and marveled from across the room at the captain as he sat heavily in the chair beside your bed. Balin mussed her hair as he smiled at her and Thorin tried to ignore her childish curiosity.

“Balin,” She sighed as he crossed his arms, “Could you have a cot brought up as well?”

“Aye, Captain,” He squared his shoulders, “As soon as I can.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Thorin finally turned to you, “I’d be remiss if I didn’t keep a close eye on you…I can’t have you chasing me down in the cold.” He looked back to the girls, watching him closely, “Thank you, Lady Sigrid, and you, Tilda for your help.”

“I’m not a lady,” Sigrid blushed despite her wariness, “Come on, Til, we’ve got work to do.”

She ushered the small girl out against her whispered protests and you watched with interest. Having been unconscious for so long, you were enraptured by all around you which drew you from the tedium of your sick bed. The door shut and you suddenly felt a warmth wash over you through the frigidity of your illness.

“Thorin,” You reached out to touch his arm and he flinched at your touch, “We should…talk.”

“Not now,” He took your hand, his flesh hot against yours, “We’ll talk tomorrow.” He set your hand on the bed and stood, “Let me get you some tea.”

You watched Thorin as he stood and crossed to the tray, busying himself with the pouring of the tea. You shook your head at his back though you had not the energy to argue with him. You had finally broken through but it seemed he was once more raising his shields. Perhaps it was better that way. You had much to think on.


	21. Chapter 21

_Elvenking’s long fingers reached for your throat, his pale hair falling loose around his shadowed face. Only his chilling blue eyes could be seen in the darkness as you laid helpless before him. You felt his hands close around your neck and he squeezed as you struggled for breath. You were paralyzed, unable to lift even on finger to resist. You couldn’t scream or cry or whimper. You could only wait for death._

You woke to a blood-curdling scream, startled to find that the shriek came from your very own lips. You clamped shut your mouth as you sat up, clutching your chest in the aftermath of your nightmare. A dark shape moved at your bedside, Thorin sitting straight in the chair he had fallen asleep in. For an entire fortnight, he had dozed there or in the thin cot he had set up in the corner or the chamber as you had struggled against your own mind, the terrors coming nightly.

“Y/N,” He touched your elbow lightly, as if afraid to break you.

Your sickness was in its last stages, your breath coming easier and the strength returning to you with each day. Despite your improvement, Thorin insisted that you rest and protested vehemently every time you tried to rise. It was only those hours when he was absent, working with his crew upon _The Fury_ , that you could bask in your recovery.

“I—I’m fine,” You calmed your gasping breaths, setting your hand atop his before he quickly rescinded it with a blush. He had yet to acknowledge his confession, even upon your prompting, “It was just a dream.”

Your hand trembled despite yourself and you clutched at the blankets, wishing he had not pulled away so sharply. You could still feel Elvingking’s hands were upon your throat and you closed your eyes, trying to shake the fear and anger roiling within you. Your hatred soon overcame your distress and your nails stabbed your palm through the wool.

“How long until your ship is ready?” Your voice harsher than you meant it, “It must be close.”

“Another week, if we’re fortunate,” He replied as he shifted forward on his seat, “You’re not still intent on—”

“Elvenking tried to kill me, he tortured me,” You looked away from Thorin as you narrowed your eyes. The venom of your own fury at times overwhelmed you, yet you hungered for vengeance, “He only deserves the same.”

“Y/N, listen to me, revenge is not worth it,” He pleaded, “It is no way to live your life. I know it better than any.”

“And if you should see Azog again,” You turned your gaze back to him and he winced, “Would you not rip out his heart?”

“I would but I am done pursuing him,” He let his shoulders fall, “I cannot live in the shadow of my own rage any longer, and I beg you, do not err as I have.”

You scowled and shook your head, leaning against the head board with a sigh, staring straight ahead of you. “What you said on the boat…” You began quietly, unwilling to argue with him once more over Elvenking, “We haven’t spoken—”

“What I said…” He mulled, and you heard his chair groan as he fidgeted, drawing your attention back to him as he avoided your eyes.

“No one’s ever loved me before,” You began, swallowing back the anxiety which swept over you, “And so, I don’t truly know how to respond.” You pushed back the covers and turned so that your legs hung over the side of the bed, “Thorin,” You reached out to touch the back of his hand, his blue eyes darting back to you, “I’m sorry…”

“Please, don’t,” He tried to pull away once more, but you caught his hand, “I know. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

“No, no, I’m happy you said it but I…” You felt tears rise suddenly and you gripped his hand even tighter, “I’ve almost died twice in these last few months. I’ve been imprisoned, tortured, and half-drowned. I truly cannot say how I feel because I’ve not had the chance to feel it, but I know that I feel something.”

Thorin gazed back at you grimly, his eyes swimming with hopelessness as he listened to you. You had not noticed that he was now clasping your hand and it gave you strength.

“I have no right to ask it of you, but I beg your patience, Thorin,” You carried on, “For I have to be patient with myself and…there are things I must do before I can even consider—”

“What things? Elvenking?” He asked, his irises turning to stone, “Heavens, can you not let it go? For if you are so set on your vengeance, I will not aid you in it. I cannot watch you travel that path, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to,” You protested and released his hand, standing and stomping towards the hearth, “I can reap my own wrath. I have every right to it and even you cannot deny me that,” You turned to him with a fiery glare, “Whether you approve of it or not, I cannot live knowing the crimes against me have gone without penalty. I’ve spent years running from those who have wronged me and I will not stand for it any longer.”

Your hands were balled and without thinking, you slammed a fist into the table before you. “What good has living peaceably done me? Do you realize why I first picked up a sword? Why I traded my skirts for trousers?” You were nearly shouting but could not withhold your anger, “Do you know?”

You took up the single candle stick upon the table and lobbed it into the wall. “You were right,” You rounded the table and stormed towards him as he stood, turning to watch your anger, “This is no world for women. All that it holds for my ilk is cruelty and sin. I will not be denied once more by a man. Not even you. I will have my vengeance.”

Stunned by the wash of rage which had taken hold of you, you stumbled backwards as tears trailed down your cheeks. You turned away in shame and crossed your arms, hanging your head as you tried to still the furious beating of your heart. A warmth settled on your shoulder and you looked up to Thorin as he stood beside you, his blue eyes gentle as they met yours.

“I pledge to you, Y/N, my sword and ship,” He avowed, his voice unwavering, “My life for yours, should it come to it.”

“Why?” You were surprised by his sudden acquiescence.

“Because I know you do not need my permission and you’ll have it with or without me,” Thorin wiped away a tear from your cheek with his thumb, “And I cannot let you face it alone.”


	22. Chapter 22

You sat in a straight-backed chair, the little girl upon the floor between your legs with her back to you. You combed your fingers through her lustrous blonde hair, parting the strands delicately as you admired them. She fidgeted as you began to plait her hair carefully and you smiled at the simplicity of your task.

“My apologies if it’s not to your standards, Tilda,” You said as you continued to twine her hair, “It’s been some time since I last plaited hair.”

“Truly?” She wondered innocently, “I never dreamed pirate did plaits…well I guess I never heard of a lady pirate before either.”

“I’m not—” You began to protest but stopped yourself, knowing her comments to be the harmless bluntness of a child, “Well, Tilda, what are pirates to do with all their hair?”

“I guess you’re right,” She chimed, “Do you plait Fili’s mustache for him?”

“Ha, no,” You chucked as you tied a length of ribbon around the end of her hair, “He does it himself, I reckon.” You patted the top her head lightly, “You’re all done.”

“Thank you,” She stood cheerily and reached back to feel the braid, “Oh, it’s wonderful.”

“Like a true lady, Lady Tilda,” Balin chimed as he appeared in the doorway, “You’ll have to show your sister.”

You could tell it was the old man’s way of kindly dismissing the young girl and you watched her squeeze by him into the hallway. You looked to Balin as he clung to a bundle, entering with a gentle smile. “You know, the bargeman doesn’t like us so near the children,” He warned, “I suppose you may be the exception, but I would prefer not to overstay our welcome.”

“Did you get what I asked for?” You ignored his chiding, “Everything?”

“Yes, hummm, everything,” He punctuated his words with a long sigh, “Though I would ask that you not tell Thorin who aided you in acquiring your lot.”

“Oh, and why’s that?” You were once more caught off-guard by a figure watching silently from the doorway, Thorin’s thick arm’s crossed as he peered over at you and Balin suspiciously, “What exactly is hidden beneath that burlap?”

Balin tilted his head and served you a rare grimace, reluctantly turning back to his captain. “Clothing…” He murmured, “Y/N asked that I find her garments suitable for the sea.”

“And?” Thorin was not to be deterred.

“A sword, dagger, and hopefully, as I requested explicitly, as pistol,” You declared as you stood. No longer were you short of breath or weakened with coughing fits; your stride had returned to you but not all of your former girth, “I expect they’ll all be quite useful in the near future.”

Thorin pursed his lips, his reluctance to your conspiracy plain despite his consent. He swallowed before he spoke, echoing the sigh Balin had issued moments before. “Y/N, we must be cautious—”

“We will be, never you worry,” You waved him off; you were exasperated with his coddling which had not ceased even in your good health, “Tell it true, how long until the ship is seaworthy?”

“Two, three days at most,” He admitted hesitantly, “What exactly have you in your head?”

“Nothing tangible, as yet,” You looked away in your scheming, fantasizing of Elvenking at your mercy, “But I have an idea,” You smirked, “That port where you deposited me, you said it was frequented by the navy?”

“Yes, which is why I was so foolish to leave you there,” He grumbled, exchanging an apprehensive look with Balin, “You can’t think of returning. Elvenking is dangerous on his own, but there, he’ll have an entire fleet at his beck.”

“That’s just it, he’s not so dangerous on his own,” Your mind was starting to align, “Which is why we need to get him alone.”

“And how would we do that?” Thorin retorted, “You can’t just ask him for a private conversation.”

“Oh, not at all,” You measured his concerns and knew returning on  _The Fury_  would be as good as wrapping the noose around every member of the crew’s neck, “Is there another port nearby, one less…royal?”

“Why?” Thorin lowered his brow.

“A merchant’s ship can easily gain covert entrance to the navy’s isle,” You plotted, “I can gain board as swiftly, hide among the crew, and wait for my chance to have my vengeance.”

“No, you cannot, not alone,” Thorin’s voice rose dangerously, “Not again. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Should I march in there with the whole crew?” You challenged slyly, “Surely one is too miniscule for closer inspection. A whole dozen would be questionable, indeed.”

“You will not go without me, I promised to keep you alive and I meant it,” He demanded.

“Thorin…” You began but he raised his hand to silence you sternly.

“I’m going wherever you go, at least until I know you’re not chasing death,” He growled. You were almost gladdened that he had shed his softened demeanour for his former, unbending self, “The two of us will raise little suspicion.”

“Hmmm, fine, if you insist,” You appreciated his help, but had hoped to spare him the consequence of your vengeance. You were prepared to offer your own blood in its pursuit but could not so easily sacrifice another.

“And you’ll not act without me,” He stated, “We must be patient. And smart. Keep our ears open and head down. We must bide ourselves until the right moment. The safest moment.”

“You’re a fool if you think this is going to be safe,” You scolded, “If you recall, you also promised to let me seize my vengeance.”

“I agreed to your plan, as risky as it is, but I will not follow you blindly,” He shook his head, “You’ll not be taking the pistol.”

“Try to keep me from it,” You scowled, “Even you cannot stand in my way, Thorin.”

“Don’t I know it,” He frowned as he turned his back to you, “Three days. If weather permits.”

You grinned in triumph despite Thorin’s resistance, mourning your newly found peace with the temperamental captain. It seemed that even with his professed adoration, you could still push him to enmity.


	23. Chapter 23

Thorin followed Y/N through the cramped quarters of the merchant ship. Guiding them was the balding captain of the vessel, Arland. What remained of his thinning white hair was secured at the nape of his neck with a leather tie and he walked with a stilted limp. To Thorin’s surprise and amusement, Y/N had bartered with him a place among the crew and with a few well-placed coins, she had also attained them a private cabin.

A small door was presented to them and an iron key handed over by the stone-faced captain. To Thorin, he seemed an amalgamation of Dwalin and Balin; old  _and_ grumpy. Y/N nodded her thanks and passed Arland another coin. He retreated the way they had come and left the pair to their chamber.

Thorin stopped slightly as he trailed Y/N through the stout door. Closing it behind him, she turned and watched as he looked around grimly. He felt a startling sense of deja vu as he tossed his rucksack into one of the hammocks awaiting them. He wished he could truly take back the life he had given up so long ago, but even a merchant’s attire could not reverse the corruption of time.

Y/N unbuttoned her dark blue jacket as she sat in her own hammock, her own manner was sullenly nostalgic. Looking at her; hair tied back in the male style and loose clothing concealing her real shape, he imagined her life before. She had said she had worked on many ships and considering her dealings with Arland, she had not lied. But before that, what had she been? A lady? A maid? A wife?

Thorin lowered himself into the other hammock, unable to tear his eyes from Y/N. She still bore scars along her lip and cheekbone from her time with Elvenking and the pallor of her sickness was only starting to recede. She was still thin, which lent to her disguise, but an inherent strength remained to her. He could see the anger which fueled her, and it frightened him. What scared him most was that at times, looking at Y/N was akin to looking in a mirror. That type of fury led to recklessness. 

He could tell she was avoiding his gaze as she examined her fingernails and sighed. Finally, she glanced up at him and chewed her lip, a rare sign of anxiety. “What is it?”

“I’m just…I’ve told you of my misgivings already,” They had done little but argue during the fortnight since their departure from Bard’s, “I won’t recite them, once more.”

“You didn’t have to come,” She shrugged.

“Yes, I did, otherwise you’d get yourself killed,” He removed his hat, brushing away a loose hair from across his forehead. He missed his old hat.

“No, I won’t. At least, not without making sure Elvenking dies first,” Her eyes flared, and she pulled forth the dagger from her belt. She grinned at the silver blade, turning it in her hand.

“And how exactly do you plan to get close enough to him?” Thorin huffed; he had asked the question so many times before and was yet to receive a rational answer.

“I told you. Patience,” She sheathed the dagger and glared at him, “We go to port, we wait, we listen…I’ll find a way.”

“Sure,” Thorin shook his head, knowing the argument was to end the same as all the others, “And what am I to do while you chase death to Elvenking’s door?”

“You didn’t have to come,” She reiterated, “I didn’t ask you to.”

She laid down in her hammock and turned her back to him, swinging softly as she did. Thorin pursed his lips and rubbed his neck as dread crawled up his spine. He was a fool to keep arguing thus. He would just have to make sure he was there when she found Elvenking.

* * *

You counted the days until you made port. You were disappointed to find the Mirkwood Rose absent from the line of vessels, but relieved at the same time. It gave you pause to think, to plan. You knew your ambiguous words were frustrating Thorin, but were even more agitating to you. You dreamt of your revenge but only in hazy flashes of blood. Nothing which could translate to your waking moments.

Even those were tortuous. Your memory was blighted by unwanted intrusions. You could be swabbing the deck, unfurling a mast, or merely eating and your mind would stray to your torment upon the navy vessel. Looking out over the vast sea, you could feel its icy embrace swallowing you. The darkness as you had plunged deeper and your brief surrender to the unknown.

“Well, we’re here,” Thorin stepped up beside you as the ship jolted into the bay, “But it seems Elvenking is not.”

“All the better,” You replied, not looking away from the crowded buildings of the isle city, “We can find somewhere to hide until he arrives. We can be as cautious as you like.”

“There is no way of doing such a task cautiously,” Thorin argued as he crossed his arms, “We can take as much time as we like, plan as much as we want, and danger still lurks.”

“And how often did you let danger demure you when pursuing your vengeance?” You turned to him, “Even now, as tame as you act, if Azog stood before you, would you not forget the risk and seize your retribution?”

“I won’t lie. I would but…” He exhaled and dropped his arms, “You deserve to have your vengeance, Y/N, but you don’t deserve what is to come with it. You’ve suffered enough and all the while I’ve watched helplessly.” His blue eyes darted away, “I just…I can’t do it again. I came to make sure that you’d not be hurt again, Y/N, not to stymie you.”

“Then don’t,” You tilted your head, “I know what we face. I know how it could go wrong. I’ve counted the ways I could die. As staggering as the odds are, I cannot stop.” It was your turn to look away, gulping as you steadied yourself, “Vengeance is all I have left.”


	24. Chapter 24

You sighed as you tapped your fingers against the side the worn stein. Thorin sat across from you, his blue eyes exploring the dregs of his own ale. He quirked his mouth and set down his cup with a hollow clunk. He pushed back his shoulders as he looked up at you restlessly.

You had spent weeks frequenting the tavern, listening endlessly for any news of the navy’s arrival. You and Thorin shared a single chamber above the tap house, the cramped quarters adding to the rising tension between you. Each day was marked by yet another argument over the danger of your mission as Thorin tried to restrain you from recklessness.

_“What would you do if Elvenking walked through that door at this very moment?” “How do you propose to get near enough to him to reap any sort of vengeance?” “You’ll be dead before you lay a finger on his person.”_

Those were only a few of the arguments set forth by Thorin and as undeniable as his forebodings were, you would not listen. You could not. All you could think of was drawing forth your pistol and firing a round into Elvenking’s chest the moment you saw him. The thought filled your days and coloured your nights. Twisted dreams of steel and blood pierced suddenly by the lethargy of your mornings.

Thorin had not spoken for more than an hour, since your last squabble, and so his voice nearly frightened you as you sunk into your murderous thoughts. You looked up at him with confoundment and his brows pinched together in frustration.

“I said, did you want another drink?”

“No,” You steadied your hand against the side of your stein, ceasing your endless fidgeting, “I’m still not done this one. I’d prefer brandy to this thin ale.”

“A brandy it is,” He swept his cup from the table, turning away brusquely and marching towards the bar.

You tucked a stray hair under the cap you wore in your male ensemble, scratching at the splintered wood of the table as you waited. You were tempted to dump your stein over the stained boards of the tavern floor, the alcohol more sickening than pleasing. You looked over to Thorin as he shouldered his way closer to the bar and you noticed that the crowd had thickened during your distraction.

That pub had not been overly busy as of late, but the sudden influx gave you hope. It meant there was news to be overheard, perhaps even some you had not yet learned. Leaning on your elbow, you glanced to the door subtly as three men in navy garb entered, their voices carrying even through the sudden dissonance of voices. One departed to fetch drinks as the remaining pair searched out a table near your own. Their choice heartened you that it was fate guiding them.

Their lack of decoration suggested that they were privates and you worried less at being recognized. It had not been so long since you had first been captured on that isle. A single word caught your intention and you hid your interest by swigging back a mouthful of the repulsive ale.

“Rose,” You heard the first private utter, the other extolling their long-awaited return to the port.

“If only Elvenking’s curfew was not so strict,” Cursed the other, “We’ll be lucky to get a pint in before we’re due back at barracks.”

“That’s the problem with officers,” The first replied, “They don’t follow their own rules. The Wilted Lily will make a fortune this night.”

“With how long it’s been since port, I’d not be surprised if the major himself is out of commission in the morn,” The pair laughed bawdily, “I hear he’s got an insatiable appetite for red ladies.”

“I’d expect even more so since that cross-dressing wench he tossed in the sea,” The other lowered his voice, “After that run-in with those pirates, I daresay the major’s even more truculent than before…ten lashings and latrine duty for a loose stitch.”

“That was just cruel,” The smaller private bemoaned, “I was just happy we lived. I never seen no pirates before that.”

As you listened, you slumped down in your seat, keeping your face hidden between your collar and stein. You only glanced up as a snifter of dark brandy was set before you and Thorin resumed his seat. “It’s busy,” He grumbled, “Must be a new ship in port.”

“Yes, must be,” You kept your eavesdropping to yourself, “Navy, too.”

“Mmm,” Thorin looked around warily, “You don’t think it’s—”

“I don’t think so,” You lied, knowing he would urge you to caution if he knew; you didn’t have time for caution. Already, you were plotting in your head. This night would be your best chance. The longer you waited, the more likely you’d be observed. “All I heard was ‘Queen’s Bounty’ or something like that. Nothing of the _Rose_.”

Thorin nodded and exhaled deeply, relieved as he gulped from his ale. As the days passed, you found he drank more and more. Tonight, it would be to your benefit. If you were fortunate, he’d retire early, and you could be away the moment he closed his eyes. You sipped your brandy as you hid a sly smirk, the thoughts bubbling furiously as you devised your scheme.

The third private joined his comrades at the table behind you and you kept your ears perked to further disclosure. The more you knew, the better you could plan.

“Thanks,” You said to Thorin as you swirled the liquor in the glass, “I fear I’m not so keen on lagers.”

“Not at all,” He shrugged and gulped back his ale, “Don’t like it much myself but I’m not fussy.”

“So, you say,” You kidded, hoping to quell any suspicion which might arise, “What say you for dinner?”

“No more potatoes,” He declared, his grimness slipping away at the thought of food.

“See, fussy,” You challenged, “I’ll tell you what,” You said between tastes of brandy, “I’ll fetch us a fine meal after we finish these and meet you upstairs.” You hinted to your half-finished snifter, “No potatoes, I promise.”

“Well…” He glanced into the depths of his stein once more as he nodded, “I guess.”

“Sounds like a plan,” You announced as you downed the last of your brandy, “Perhaps I’ll fetch some more of this as well.”


	25. Chapter 25

 

You were convinced that fate was on your side. The three privates had been only the first fortunate harbinger in your quest. You had returned from your visit to the market with fish and turnip for the evening meal. A bottle of brandy had been simple enough to barter alongside a few other goods to see you through the night. You were further when Thorin fell into sonorous snores after imbibing little more than a glass and gorging himself on your wares.

With your rucksack over your shoulder and your cap pulled low, you tiptoed from your shared chamber, the creaking of the aged door doing little to wake the slumbering captain. You took the stairs as slowly, careful not to make much noise as you found your way to the back door of the tavern. In the streets, the sky was growing dim and the crowd thin. You prayed you were not too late.

 _The Wilted Lily_  was just south of the market square. It was one of the more renowned brothels on the island and the navy among their most illustrious clients. You watched as a painted woman stepped out and hung a red banner over the doorway signalling its opening for the eve. You rubbed your jaw, the first tingle of nerves roiling within you, and turned down the alleyway which led to its rear entrance.

You rapped upon the door, waiting patiently for an answer. A dusky middle-aged woman soon opened it, her dark red hair greying and her eyes traced with crow’s feet. It was reasonable by her manner to assume she was the madam of the house. You kept your head low and your voice even as you spoke.

“I come from the major,” You pretended to glance around for observer’s, “I’ve a message.”

“You do?” She raised a brow, “You don’t look a navy man to me.”

“Alas, I am not,” You bowed your head, “I am but a boy. I shine his shoes and keep his chamber tidy.”

“With a boy so pretty, I’d not expect him to frequent this hole so often.”

“Aye, he is of a taste for the more traditional,” You feigned embarrassment.

“Well, you should speak with Liliana, I should expect,” She cleared her throat, stepping back slightly from the doorway, “She’s to be his fancy for the night. Though I’ll warn you, she’s a bit of shrew.”

“Not at all, it should only take a moment, Missus,” Your heart jumped as you surpassed the second barrier of the night and were welcomed inside with a wave.

You followed the woman, her hips swaying rhythmically, and you observed her stride closely. She left you before a door at the end of the corridor, the walls decorated with faded paintings of flowers and half-naked cherubs. “You best be quick. It’ll be a busy night for all.”

With that, the madam stomped away from you with a sigh. She was likely more intent on keeping clients flowing through the doors than you. You withheld a smirk and turned to knock on the door, holding the strap of your rucksack as you waited. It opened to the smell of rose perfume and tobacco smoke, a shapely blonde woman standing before you in little more than a chemise.

“Can I help you, boy?” She looked you up and down, “’Less you’ve got the gold, I’ve not the time for you.”

“I come from the major,” You repeated your lie meekly, “A message.”

“A message? The coin he sent earlier was word enough for me.” She flicked her cigarette, “If it’s not more of the same, you better scram.”

“Well,” You reached in your pocket and jingled the few pieces you had there, “It can be.”

She glanced past you down the hallway cynically before back to you, scoffing as she leaned against the door frame, “Come on then, you runt.” She left just enough room for you to squeeze by her, “You better make it worth it.”

You sidled into the room, turning as she closed the door lazily, paying you little attention as she swept around the room. She crossed to her vanity, checking her reflection in the small mirror and preening before it. You unslung your rucksack from your shoulder and reached inside, pulling forth a purse, the sound of which drew Liliana’s attention back to you.

“I set to you a proposal, or rather a choice,” You let the purse drop on the crooked table before you, “You take my coin and forgo your rendezvous with the major…”

She eyed the pouch of coins for a moment before confusion glinted in her emerald-like eyes and she glared up at you, “Or?” She questioned wryly.

“Or I take my coin,” You unholstered the pistol from your belt and pointed it towards her, “And you abstain from the major’s bed anyways.”

“What are you about?” She clutched at her chest dramatically, pulling down her chemise only slightly. A guise to distract the man she thought you to be.

“Your decision?” You ignored her ploy, pulling back the hammer with a click, “I’ll not ask again.”

“Twice the coin for nothing is fine by me,” She picked up the purse and weighed it in her hands, “Or rather triple,” She grinned, “You do pay well, boy.”

“That I do,” You removed your cap, tossing it aside before releasing your hair from its tie, “But I am no boy.” She looked back at you in astonishment before she was overcome with amusement, her pink lips curving once more, “And I do have another small favour to ask of you.”

* * *

Thorin was awoken by his own snoring, his last grunt jolting him into the dark of the chamber. The only candle had burned down to its wick and only the silver light of the moon gave him sight as it shone through the slats of the shutters. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up, yawning as he rose and pushed open the windows, the night still young. He had only dozed for an hour or two.

He turned back to the chamber, looking to the straw mattress where Y/N spent her nights, though she did not often sleep. His chest tightened as he found it empty, but he kept his mind from straying too far. She may have simply gone back to the tavern or tending to her personal needs. Stretching his shoulders, he brushed back his hair and headed for the door, pausing as he spied the empty hook along the wall.

Y/N’s rucksack was gone, as was her jacket. Thorin’s stomach sank with dread, the foreboding which had coloured his weeks on the isle erupting within him. Ripping his own jacket from the wall and securing his sword at his waist, he yanked open the door and stumbled down the stairs into the barroom. He could not sight Y/N among the crowd, but he recognized a figure slumped over a table, a stein overturned just beside his head.

Thorin neared the private, long abandoned by his compatriots as he stewed in a drunken stupor. He recalled the sudden influx of uniforms earlier and realized he had heard little of their arrival. Y/N has assured him it was a crew unknown to them, but her disappearance riled his suspicion. She was of the mind to lie, even if it could mean her death. He had been foolish not to press further, but tedium had dulled his wits.

“You,” He pulled the private up by his collar, slapping his cheek to rouse him. The youth’s eyes rolled back before focusing on the angry man holding him like a rag doll and he belched in Thorin’s face.

“Whaddya want?” He sputtered through hiccups.

“What ship do you sail?” Thorin hissed.

“That’s none of yer bus’ness.” The private slurred with a chuckle, “Just who d’ya think y’are?”

“What ship?” Thorin tightened his grip on the private’s collar.

“T-the  _Rose_ ,” The private choked out, trying to shove away his assailant, “ _The Mirkwood Rose_ , by christ. Will ya unhand me?”

“Goddammit,” Thorin dropped the private back to his stool, but the youth was too drunk to sit upright and collapsed to the floor, laying in the puddle of spilt ale.

Thorin payed little attention to the navy man as he slumped back into unconsciousness, instead heading for the door with the hilt of his sword clutched in readiness. This night would end in blood, he only hoped it was not Y/N’s.


	26. Chapter 26

At last, your anxiety had caught up to you. As you rode in the carriage with several other women, their lips painted various shades of red and their scantily clad bodies hidden by deceivingly conservative cloaks, the gravity of your mission washed over you. Despite feeling peculiar in your new disguise, you were the least obvious of the flock.

Liliana had been all to eager to aid you in your preparations at the sight of so much gold. Her acquiescence, although not unfathomable, sparked your suspicion. You were almost tempted to leave her tied up as you had originally intended. Even so, you left her unharmed and with a full purse of coin.

She had helped you hide your hair beneath the gaudy blonde wig you had bartered for at the market and coloured your lips with a deep shade of scarlet. She had even gone so far as to offer your selection of her wardrobe. It had been long since you had worn a dress, and so you had let her choose for you. It lent to credibility of your attire; even Thorin could not have recognized you for anything other than a red lady.

The thought of your abandoned companion gave you pause. For a moment, guilt rose in you, but you were soon distracted by the pinching of your corset against your ribs. The carriage jolted to a halt and the chatter of the women quieted as the door opened from without. Each stepped down with swaying hips, smirking up at the guards who had been sent to escort you to the officers’ barracks.

You imitated them as it came your turn to step out despite the veil daintily hung from ear to ear; an extra layer to hide you from Elvenking’s keen eye. You followed the gaggle of painted ladies through the rear of the barracks, one departing for each door you passed. You were guided to the major’s quarters and watched as the last two walked along with a sensuous sweep of skirts.

You knocked on the door before you, your raps measured against the storm of nerves brewing with you. A deep voice beckoned your entrance and set the hairs along your neck on end. It was a voice you had longed to hear and yet prayed to never hear again. You pressed down the latch of the door handle and pushed inside, forcing away all doubt to become what you appeared.

As you entered, you closed the door behind you, studying the room from behind your veil. Elvenking sat at a small writing desk, a quill in hand as he seemed barely to notice your arrival. Slowly, you straightened your arms, letting the velvet coat slip from your shoulders. Your bosom overflowed your bodice, skirts slit seductively down the legs, and your arms scandalously bare. It was enough to keep him from focusing on your face.

“There’s a rack just to your left,” Elvenking advised without looking up, “You may hang your coat there.

“Thank you, sir,” You kept your voice dusky, doing your best impression of Liliana’s sultry tones.

“My apologies if I seem…” He paused as he looked up while you hung your cloak, “Distracted, but I assure you,” He set aside his pen, “You have my attention now, my lady.”

“Lady?” You nearly scoffed as he rose, his eyes running up and down your figure.

His white uniform trousers were speckled with dots of ink and his blouse hung loosely down his chest. His blonde hair was free of its usual binds and you were heartened to find him unarmed. He likely thought the same of you. A simple whore without a thought but her duty, but there was much that could be hidden beneath your skirts.

“Come here,” He lowered himself onto the feather bed at the other end of the room, his legs apart and feet planted, “No sense in trying to comfort ourselves in small acts of decorum.”

The curve of his lips sickened you, but you obeyed him. As you neared, he reached out to you and you caught his hand in air. You smirked through the thin veil across your nose and purred, aroused by the thought of your revenge so close at hand. You nudge his chest and he followed your wordless demand, laying upon his back with a lusty grin of his own.

You climbed up to straddle him, dragging your fingers along his jaw and neck, tracing the lines of his chest above his shirt. His hand squeezed your thigh as your skirt bared your leg. You bent slowly over him, the smell of rose wafting from your fake curls. His pale eyes pierced yours, igniting your wrath.

He hesitated before closing his eyes, your lips meeting his softly, teasingly before you deepened the kiss. His hand travelled to your rear as yours wandered to your other leg, grasping the metal hidden upon your hip. You nibbled his lip as you pulled away, sitting up as you stared down at him with feigned desire. Elvenking smiled back at you, licking his lips, and you pulled forth your pistol, pointing it at his chest.

It was as if he expected the sudden assault. Catching the muzzle of the gun as you pulled the trigger, force it upwards. He tore the weapon from your hand, his other coming up with a flash of silver. The blade pinned your hand to your chest as you tried to shield yourself, your palm impaled as you fell back with shriek.

With a grunt, you gripped the hilt of the knife and yanked it free of your flesh. You could hardly stem the flow of blood now seeping from your chest with your wounded hand. You looked up to the bed where Thranduil writhed and cursed.

“You slut,” He hissed through agonized breaths, “Did you think I didn’t recognize you?”

“Not soon enough,” You uttered through gritted teeth as you struggled to rise.

The door behind you burst open and you turned, ready to face your death at the hands of several navy officers. Instead, you were stunned at the sight of the dark-haired captain charging into the room. Thorin took you by the elbow, pulling you up to your feet. His blue eyes darkened at the sight of blood spreading across your corset. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He looked over at the major who had yet to sit up, “We’ve got to go.”

“Not yet,” You tried to pull away, but he kept hold of you, “I’ve got to finish it.”

“Y/N, look at him!” He let you closer to bed but did not release you. Elvenking’s face was bloodied and charred with gunpowder, his eye all but gone. You may not have hit your exact target, but you had not missed. “He might not be dead, but he’s worse off than either of us. Now, we’ve got to go before we’ve not the option.”

“Fine,” You nodded, basking in the sight of the major, grasping desperately at his mangled face, “Let’s go.”

You let Thorin guide you from the room, the blood turning cold along your chest. Your head was starting to spin, and you felt your legs weakening. You looked down at your maimed hand against your chest, the blood streaming heavily.

“You’ll be okay,” Thorin assured as he reached over, pressing a wadded cloth to the wound, “Just keep going.” All you could do was listen to Thorin otherwise you would succumb to the dark, “Come on,” He urged, the words echoing as if far away, “You’re going to be alright, Y/N.”


	27. Chapter 27

Thorin kept his arm under Y/N as he helped her up the narrow stairs of the tavern. It was late, and so he was reassured that they had not been noticed hurrying along the empty streets. As they retreated from the barracks, there was no sign of alarm. Thorin prayed the gun shot which had wounded Thranduil had been shrugged off as a misfire. As there was no further commotion, he dared to hope so.

Angling Y/N awkwardly through the door of their shared chamber, Thorin helped her to a chair and frantically searched the room. On the table next to her, he set out a basin with water, a cloth, the remains of the rum she had bought, and his rucksack. His anxiety receded slightly as Y/N sat straight and reached out to grasp the rag in her bloodied fingers.

“I’ll take care of myself,” She uttered through clenched teeth, grunting as she pressed the cloth to her wound; blood streamed from the left side of her chest and along her shoulder, “Gather rations…” She looked to her wound, “We’ll need to be gone quickly.”

“Where?” Thorin asked, his own mind flurrying for an answer.

“Away,” She tossed the cloth on the table before pouring the rum over her wound, “If we stay, our death is certain.”

Thorin was relieved that Y/N had appeared to regain her senses though he wondered how long until her blood loss became dire. Shaking, she searched his rucksack and pulled forth the small sachet which he had hoped not to need. She threaded the needle on her third try, barely keeping her head up, but she waved away his attempts to help.

“Thorin,” She hissed as she poked the needle through her own flesh, straining to see her work, “There is no time to—” She bit her lip as she pulled the first stitch taught, “To delay. Now, go.”

He stared at her a moment. The blonde wig had fallen from her head on their path home, her hair tangled and sweaty as it slipped from its tie. He had never seen her dress as a woman, though her clothing was little more than whore’s tatters. As she stemmed the flow of her own blood, she looked more fragile than ever; corset stained crimson and her skirts spattered with dirt.

Before she could snap at him again, Thorin turned and nearly slipped as he rushed downstairs. He caught himself with the railing, crashing through into the storeroom of the tavern. As the crowd in the bar grew raucous, he intrusion went unnoticed and he searched shelf and barrel for adequate rations. Salted meat, a corked bottle of ale and another of water, dried berries of questionable age, and a rope-handled crate to carry it all.

He stirred around in the pouch of his belt, leaving a stack of coins on a higher shelf. He was no thief, not anymore. He pressed himself against the wall as he exited the storeroom, creeping back to the stairs and nearly losing hold of the crate as he avoided a collision. Y/N had pulled a thin blanket over her shoulders like a cloak and had his rucksack slung from her uninjured shoulder. “Let me help.”

“No, I can handle it,” The crate was not big, but heavy, and her feared it would weaken her further.

“Fine, let’s be off,” She peered into the dark hallway which led to the storeroom and further on to the bar, “Before we’re found out.”

She pushed through the back door, staggering as she turned into the alley. She grabbed at her shoulder but kept on. Thorin was tempted to abandon the foodstuffs and carry her instead but he could not be sure they’d have another chance to gather supplies. He caught her elbow as she faltered, balancing the crate precariously, but she shoved his hand away.

“No time,” She uttered as if maddened, “We have to go.” She continued down the next street, winding her way along the streets without pause despite her obvious pain. It did not take much to figure where she was headed. They would surely need food if they were to set sail.

* * *

You were dizzy, and yet a clarity had overcome you. Spurts of adrenaline burst within you, driving you onward. Agony clawed at your chest, but the wound had not been deep enough to reach your heart. You were still alive and so was Thorin. You could not let him be killed for your sins. You owed him your life, but had given him not but strife.

You prayed the coin you had pressed into the palm of the angler had been enough. You were coming up on the dock, the cool air from the water billowed the blanket around your shoulders. Thorin followed silently but you could sense his gaze as it never left you. He was concerned but you wished he wasn’t. He had worried far too much already.

You came reached  _Saturn’s pier,_ the lesser of a dozen. It’s length appeared abandoned and you’re chest seized. Had you misheard? Or perhaps misremembered? You had lost a lot of blood and your escape had seemed merely a footnote in your plot. 

You quickened your step as you walked the pier, nearly crying out as the small boat came into sight. A single crate rested between the seats and a pair of oars were waiting to be used. You sighed with relief but there was still much peril ahead.

“Y/N,” Thorin muttered with distaste, “For how long were you plotting?”

“Not very,” You had done more in half a day than the weeks you had spent on the island, “Now’s not the time to argue.”

“Goddamn you,” He set aside his crate and offered his hand as you tried to climb into the bobbing ship. You accepted it, knowing you were likely to overturn the vessel in your state, “Why then did you have me fetch these?”

“Just in case,” You answered vaguely. You could only imagine how reluctant Thorin would have been if you had had to commandeer another’s boat. For a pirate, he was certainly uptight. “The more we have the better, though.”

“Sure,” He handed across his crate, the weight of it making you wince with pain, and he climbed in after it.

He swiftly untied the boat and pushed it away from the pier. You sat opposite him, but he refused to look at you. He was angrier than he had ever been, so much so that he would not say so. You reached for an oar, but he grabbed it first, taking both staunchly in his hands.

“Rest,” He ordered sternly, slowly and quietly moving the oars in tandem, guiding the small boat away from port, his blue eyes staring past you, “We’ve a long way to go…if we make it even a mile.”


	28. Chapter 28

At last, your heart had ceased its hammering. You had finally lost sight of shore and not a single naval ship had appeared to hasten behind you. The sun was rising slowly over the horizon, the water turning glassy blue beneath. Pursuit could still come but you had allowed yourself a chance.

The navy would not know of your flight to the sea if none had seen you. Days would be spent searching the streets instead and you’d be gone by the time they even thought to sail. Your chest burned, and the chill of the sea trickled up your spine. You stared at Thorin as he rowed, his attention set on the horizon. When he did look at you, it was with a mixture of anger and the same worry which had sobered him in the bargeman’s house.

You rubbed your hands together, the dried blood flaking off. A vision of Thranduil’s mangled face came to you; flesh burned black with gun powder, his eye pooled with blood, the flesh of his ear shredded. You may not have killed him, but you had left him in such a state that he would never be the same.

Even so, you were not appeased. His suffering did not dull your own. You had thought seeing him dead, or at least close to, would have removed the pit in your stomach. Lightened the weight which had settled over you, suffocating you even in your dreams. Alas, you were the same as you had been. Tainted, bitter, helpless.

Worse, you had betrayed Thorin. You had promised to be cautious, to listen to him, but you had acted in the heat of your rage. You cared little for the wound in your chest, the danger but a footnote in your plot. Besides, it did not hurt so much as Thorin’s disappointment.

You stared at the water, sparkling an ethereal blue in the early dawn. Your vision swam, and your head turned to sand. You were suddenly exhausted. You cradled your head in your hand and closed your eyes, steadying your breath. Again, the scene between you and Thranduil played out in your mind but still no pleasure came from it.

You kept your head down as you felt something touch your shoulder, trembling beneath the shelter of the thin wool blanket. You had thought vengeance the answer, but it had only worsened your despair.

* * *

Thorin stopped rowing as Y/N hung her head, her skin pallid and shiny with a mixture of sweat, salt water, and blood. He touched her shoulder as her loose hair formed a curtain around her face and she shivered beneath the thin blanket. She did not respond as he called her name and slumped forward, slipping off the bench against the crate between them with a thud. Her collapse caused the boat to bob dangerously.

He lifted her, her head lolling back as it had the last time she had fallen unconscious. He placed his ear to her chest and listened to her breathing. It was steady and unburdened. Her lung fever had not returned but she sweltered, even against the breeze of the ocean. He figured it was infection, or perhaps blood loss. It mattered little as he could do little as they floated across the endless waters in the paltry small boat.

He laid her across the bench as best he could, wrapping the blanket around her figure snugly. He felt helpless as he once more took the oars, keeping his eyes on her unmoving form.  _Why had he let her return to the isle?_  He had known it was foolish, but he could not stop her. She had been so fervent in her vengeance.

He had seen the pain and anger burning in her and it reflected his own so deeply. He had thought that he might have relished in Thranduil’s downfall as much as her. He could not however, as she lingered so close to death and all because of him. He had lost his vigilance, become apathetic after weeks on the isle. It was his folly which had allowed her to march into peril.

He began to row, the repetitive motion keeping him from despondency. He could not stop, even if Y/N needed more help than he could give. If they were caught, it was both their deaths and he had promised Balin he would not let her die. Moreover, he had promised himself.

* * *

The days had passed slowly. Three days out and Thorin’s lips were chapped and his nose sun burnt. The brim of his hat could only do so much, and his hands and forearms peeled painfully. Y/N wavered between unconsciousness and dazed awakenings. Her eyes were unfocused when she awoke and only opened long enough for Thorin to help her choke down a mouthful of water and a bite of salted beef.

He kept her hidden beneath the thin wool blanket, keeping the sun from her sallow skin. He ate and drank without looking away from her and had lost their co-ordinates two days back. He had been so distracted that he had forgotten about the map and compass she had cleverly hidden beneath his seat. It mattered little; fortune rarely favoured a small boat at sea.

It was unlikely they would find their way back to the rendezvous and any vessel which discovered them would inevitably be naval. Thorin sighed as the sea sprawled out before him, reiterating how hopeless they were. Y/N had been smart in planning their escape, but it had proven inadequate. He was as useless as ever.

_Why could she not have waited? Why couldn’t she have let it go? Did she care so little for herself?_

As night came once more, Thorin shivered amid the salty gales. He checked that the blanket was drawn firmly around Y/N before tucking his chin beneath his collar and worked the oars against the brewing tides. The sway of the sea lulled him and despite his anxiety, he fell asleep. Even in his dream, Y/N was sickened, and he rowed without pause atop an ocean of blood.

He awoke to the crashing of waves against the small boat, the oars still beneath his hands. He sniffed as he yawned, the early dawn light hazier than days before. Thorin sensed a shadow moving across the water and looked out to the horizon, a dark speck growing as it neared.

A ship was approaching. Much larger than theirs to be visible from such a distance. He could not identify the flag it flew but he had little hope it was any but that of the British army. Their course could not be diverted and there was no outrunning a vessel of that size.

Thorin had been a fool to think that they would meet anything but death upon their venture. He had failed Y/N the moment they had stepped foot on that damned island. Their fate was sealed.


	29. Chapter 29

Fortune had rarely favoured Thorin.

The paltry oars were so insignificant as to be futile against the swell of the tide. The water drew their small vessel closer to the looming giant approaching ominously from the horizon. But for the stirring of the sea, there was no sound and the silence was stifling. He was frightened thus, when Y/N stirred from beneath the blanket, slowly pulling it from over her pale face.

“Thorin,” She groaned, straining to push herself up, the blanket falling from her shoulders, “Where are we?”

“Lost,” He answered grimly, unsure of how to explain their mounting predicament. He reached across to steady her, touching her head to measure her temperature, “Your fever has broken.”

“Infection?” Shaking, she touched her wound, her hand sloppily bandaged. She pulled away from him, her face sallow, eyes wide and wondrous.

“Likely,” He sighed as he sat back on his bench, looking over her shoulder with dread;  _it could not be._

“The stitches will need to come out,” She examined her chest, her neck bent awkwardly, “And my hand…” She looked at the blood stained cotton, “I should have tended to it better.”

“You shouldn’t have gone after him,” Thorin could not help his venom, “You’ve signed your death warrant a dozen times over. You’ll not be so lucky anon.”

“Thorin…” She tried to meet his eyes, but he could not look at her, the vessel was growing sinisterly close. They could not evade the ship, it was much too late for that. Even if he were stronger, he would never have been able to outrun it in the small boat. Not even if Y/N had been awake to help him. “What is it?”

She followed his gaze, turning weakly on her seat. She brought up her uninjured hand, shielding her eyes from the sun, standing in shock and nearly toppling over. Thorin caught her before she could spill into the sea, his hand trembling despite himself.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” He whispered, “I tried to get away.”

“No, Thorin, I’m sorry,” She slumped back onto the bench, “You’re right. I was such a fool and I dragged you into this and now…we’ll both die for my selfishness.” Tears rose in her eyes and she wiped them away frantically, “I just—I couldn’t help myself. I just had to hurt him like he hurt me, but I’ve hurt you worse.” She sniffed, her skin turn so white Thorin feared she would fall back in unconsciousness, “So many times you’ve saved my life and how do I repay you? By luring you into the mouth of the beast.”

“It could not be helped,” Thorin pulled the blanket around her shoulders as the sea sprayed her bare arms and sat beside her, “I chased Azog for so long, I was destined for a final parley. I’ve known all along I was to die at his hand. Hell, I devoted half my life to making sure of it. I’ve condemned an entire crew of men to the same plight. I only regret you are to face it with me.”

Y/N gulped and shook her head. “No, you’re wrong. It is my fault, Thorin. You had sworn off your vengeance. You had chosen to be a greater person than I ever could but all I saw was red. And in my hunger, I drew you down with me. Though you were content to relinquish your anger for mine.”

Thorin felt a warmth on his hand, realizing only after a moment that Y/N had taken his hand in her good one. She was trembling still and finally lifted her head, looking in his eyes with a desperation he had never seen in her. “I’m scared, Thorin,” She rasped, “And I’m so very sorry.”

“There is no time to be sorry,” Thorin squeezed her hand, “Only to prepare ourselves. Death comes for us all, but when it does, it is fearsome nonetheless.”

“If we are to die,” Y/N cleared her throat as if taking strength from his resignation, “Better we face it together.”

Thorin clung to Y/N and she to him. They said no more as the ear-splitting silence returned. The water pushed them closer to  _The Bloody Barnacle_. He could see the one-armed figure of Azog the Defiler peering over the bow and a horn sounded. A single death knell foretelling their imminent fate.

The larger vessel sent up such a surge of water it nearly overturned the small boat. A rope ladder unfurled over the rail only feet from them. Thorin and Y/N looked to each other before a face appeared overhead. “Climb it,” The man ordered banefully, “Now.”

Thorin hesitated, reluctant to let go of Y/N. A dark muzzle was slung over the rail and the order was repeated. Perhaps it would be wiser to die swiftly than bare themselves to the cruelty of Azog.

“Come on, Thorin,” Y/N stood. She had ceased her trembling and he saw in her the same unbending woman who had washed up on his ship. “Together.”

He rose behind her, helping her get her grip on the rope ladder. She climbed slowly with him in her stead. He didn’t look away from her, afraid she would lose her grasp and fall. She was still weak, and he could hear her panting in her struggle.

As she neared the rail, the pirate who had commanded them grabbed her and lugged her over the rail roughly. Thorin heard her crash unceremoniously on the deck as he pushed away another crewmate. He swung himself over the rail under his own volition, kneeling beside Y/N sprawled across the deck. She held her chest painedly, her hand bleeding from being dropped so bluntly.

“Well, well,” A dark voice came from behind the row of pirates who stood around them, swords bared and ready. Azog pushed through his men and looked Thorin and Y/N over with a sneer. He chuckled and pointed the blade which had replaced his arm at Thorin’s nose. “This is most unexpected.”

Thorin did his best to shield Y/N behind him as he helped her stand. The pirates let out a row of slimy laughter, their leader rounding his prey like a rabid wolf. “And you’ve brought a treat for us,” He forced his way between the pair, keeping Thorin away with his bladed arm, “I’m not one for damaged goods,” He leered at Y/N, brushing his fingers down her shoulder before jabbing his thumb harshly against her wound, causing her to shriek in pain, “But she’ll do.”

Azog released her, bringing his elbow up as he turned and cracked Thorin’s nose with a violent strike. Thorin wavered, tears coming to his eyes as he fought to keep them open. Y/N edged toward him, clutching her chest in agony. Azog kicked her legs out from under her and she fell with another cry. He laughed again and Thorin fought to withhold his anger.

“Take them to the cells,” Azog ordered flippantly, nudging Thorin tauntingly with the tip of his blade, “I’ll get to them…eventually.”


	30. Chapter 30

You sat with your back against the damp wall, pulling slivers from your forearm. You had scraped yourself quite painfully when Azog had toppled you and it only added to your discomfort. You shivered without end, your chest ached from your still healing wound, and your right hand was next to paralyzed. The only comfort you took was from the man next to you.

Thorin had fallen silent since you had been escorted to the cells. Despite your lack of resistance, your captors had done so roughly, and it had set your only companion to quiet rage. Then you had watched as the anger turned to dread, then sadness, and finally fear. Throughout your acquaintance with the sullen captain, you had never sensed anything so palpable as the terror in him at that moment.

You said little more for the frantic thoughts flowing through your head. You were weak but aware enough to know the end was near. You had no relief to offer him even if you could find words to speak. You glanced over at him, his aquiline nose limned in the faint light gleaming from a single, soot-stained lamp. You smiled somberly, heartened to face your death alongside such a man. He was braver than you had ever been.  _How had you even though him so contemptible?_

You ceased pulling the wooden shavings from your flesh and reached over with your uninjured hand to touch his. At first, he flinched as if being awoken from a deep sleep. Then, he looked to you and his eyes glistened as if he were about to cry. You had never seen him so vulnerable. He was close to giving up, if he had not already.

“You warned me this would not end well, Thorin,” You croaked, shattering the fragile silence, “I should’ve listened to you…I should have listened to myself, but I was too bitter to hear my own heart.”

“Y/N, it’s not your fault, I—”

“Should just listen to me,” You interrupted before he could devolve into self-pity, “When I woke up, back in Laketown, I found you on the  _Fury_. You were different, but I dragged you back down the path you had turned from.” You let out a sigh, trying to see through the haze of the time since that tense meeting, “You told me then that you loved me, but I was too selfish to hear it.”

“I shouldn’t have—” You squeezed his hand to quiet him.

“No, I should have listened, because if you truly meant it, I shouldn’t have ignored you so callously. It’s taken me nearly dying and leading you to an irreparable fate to realize all you’ve done for me. No man has ever done more than dismiss or abuse me. You imprisoned me, but you could’ve as easily tossed me back to the sea. Perhaps you would’ve been better for it.” You shuddered as your situation became even more daunting, “There is no other I’d sooner face the end with than you, Captain Oakenshield.”

Thorin tugged gently on your hand, releasing it as he wrapped his arm around you. He held you close and burrowed his nose into your shoulder. You felt a warm trickle as his tears began to fall and you felt your own eyes burning with despair. You clung to him desperately, his sobs slowing to a lull. He did not let go however, and you continued to embrace him until the hatch opened with a foreboding whine of hinges and footsteps thumped down the stairs.

“Isn’t this a precious scene,” Azog’s voice curdled the silence, “I hate to disturb so bluntly, but the whore looks to need some tending to.”

You let go of Thorin and looked over at the sinister, one-armed pirate who leered back with affected concern. Thorin stood, stepping up to the bars to face his foe. “Over my dead body, Azog.”

“If need be,” Azog chuckled as you rose, gently touching Thorin’s elbow as you stepped up beside him.

“No,” You stated plainly, “You’re right. I am quite poorly.”

“Smart woman,” Azog’s eyes glimmered at you wickedly, “I like my whores with a bit of sense.”

“She’s not a whore,” Thorin growled as you had to hold him back from reaching through the bars.

“Thorin, please,” You forced him to turn towards you, “Don’t blame yourself,” You reached up to cup his chin, standing on your toes to kiss his lips, sealing your farewell. You pulled away, pausing to whisper in his ear, “We must face death with not but our pride for we have nothing else.” You cradled his face for a moment, admiring his crystal blue eyes as Azog noisily unlocked the door, “I love you.”

You tore yourself away from Thorin just before Azog seized your arm, pulling you harshly through the door. He snapped it shut before Thorin could follow and you looked back at him with resignation. “You taught me how to be brave. I’ll remember that lesson to the end.”

You turned away as Azog forced you towards the stairs, your heart pounding so violently you felt as if you would combust. Thorin began to shout but his words made little sense to you as your fear boiled over.  _Don’t let him see_ , you told yourself as Azog dragged you onto the deck, the sky as dim as your cell. A bad omen.

He pushed open the door to his cabin, shoving you inside callously. You nearly stumbled but as you caught your balance, your legs were once more kicked out from under you by Azog. He rounded you and pulled you up by your hair, lifting you to sit on a rickety chair. He laughed once more, endlessly amused by the suffering of others.

“You need to get your sea legs, whore,” He taunted as he crossed the room, uncorking a bottle of rum and swigging from it sloppily. His cabin was a stark contrast to Thorin’s; grimy, unkempt, and dark. “Rum?”

“No,” You answered tersely, wiping the blood once more seeping from your hand on your skirts.

“You’re going to need it,” He neared and held out the bottle, “Better you take what solace you can before we begin.”

You stared at the bottle, snarling before you knocked it out of his hand, spilling the dark liquor across the floor. He brought his fist up across your jaw and your head reeled at his strength. Blood pooled in your mouth and you spat it across his jacket. He chuckled, once more grabbing you by the hair, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“I’m not quite ready just yet,” He brought up his bladed arm beneath your chin, “First I’d like to know how a whore like you wound up with Oakenshield…If you find it difficult to recount the tale I’m sure he’ll tell me himself, and I’ll not be so gentle with him.”


	31. Chapter 31

You could not recall the exact moment when the sight of your own blood had ceased to affect you. The red drops trickling down your cheek and chin added to the array of crimson and scarlet stains across your corset. You could taste the metallic flavour as a stray bead of blood seeped between your lips. You spat forth another globule of reddened saliva, resisting the urge to wipe away the mess from your face.

“You’ll not be so pretty when I’m done with you,” Azog brought his blade up once more, laying a precise slice across your left cheekbone to mirror the right. You cared not for his threats as you’d likely not be alive when he had deemed your meeting over. “I’ve never met a bitch so stubborn as you.”

“And I’ve never met a brute so hideous,” You retorted, choking on your blood as you laughed darkly. “You’re a paltry monster after the beasts I’ve faced.” You taunted, “Nothing but an imp delighting in fool’s play.”

“Oh, yes?” He grabbed the back of your head, forcing you to your feet as he pressed the edge of his blade to your throat, “Perhaps you don’t fear the pain I’ve in store for you, but what about your dear captain, hmm? Shall I regale you with what awaits the honourable Oakenshield?”

You visibly gulped at the thought of Thorin, having drawn out your own torture to spare him. Despite Azog’s brutality and persistence, you had revealed not but insignificant details and irrelevant lies. He had broken two of your fingers and left dual gashes across your cheeks. He had hollered with irritation and thrown you against the wall several times, replacing you in the chair to resume his interrogation. You abided it all knowing it allowed Thorin a chance to save himself…if only he could find a way.

* * *

Thorin could not find his voice to shout anon. He continued to grip the bars between his hands, his face pushed against the cold metal as he tried not to think of what Azog was doing to Y/N. Every muscle within him felt as if it was throbbing and his eyes burned with acidic tears. He sniffed as he stared at the dim flame of the lantern across from him and felt a rage spark through his melancholy

It was the same anger he had been fighting since he had drawn Y/N from the depths of the water after Elvenking had tried to drown her. His grief had chased away the hunger which had driven him for so long but now it returned to him twofold. Azog had led him to this. He had attacked his crew all those years ago, violated his sister, driven her to madness, stranded him to a life tainted by violence. And now he would take from the Thorin the only sliver of solace he had found in his ill-fortuned life.

“Guard,” Thorin wiped away his tears and called out, driven by some half-formed plot brewing within, “Guard!”

He continued to call until the hatch opened, a sour grumble accompanied a set of clumsy footsteps and the tinkle of metal plodding down the stairs. The crewmate appeared before him with a drunken wobble and burped a foul odor into Thorin’s face. “What is the meaning of all this shouting!?”

“I’ve got to relieve myself,” Thorin stated plainly.

“Use the bucket,” The guard hiccupped and chuckled, unsteady on his feet.

“You took our pot,” Thorin lied, knowing the guard’s drunken eyes could not see through the dark shrouding the brass vessel hidden in the corner, “I’d rather not use the floor…Likely you’d be the one sent to clean it.”

“Or you could, hiccup, sleep in it,” The guard laughed again but quickly clamped his lips shut as if he would vomit. He swallowed with great effort and shook his head free of his sudden discomfiture, “Ugh, that ale was much to briny.”

“There’ll be something much more briny across these boards if you don’t let me relieve myself,” Thorin insisted, “I cannot hold it much longer.”

“Hmm,” The crewmate considered Thorin with caution, leaning in to look him over. Thorin kept his gaze steady until their noses were nearly touching. “I don’t—”

Thorin reached through the bars and seized the crew mate collar, jerking the pirate so violently that his head crashed against the metal. The man’s body went limp almost immediately and Thorin released him so that he crumpled on the floor. Kneeling, he reached through the bars and searched the crewmate’s belt for the jingle which had accompanied him down the steps.

Thorin pulled forth the key ring, carefully trying each skeleton until the last turned in the hole. He sighed but a sudden rush of fear took him.  _What would he do now?_ Opening the door was but the first obstacle. He took the crewmate’s thin blade; a measly weapon but better than nothing. He slowly crept up the stairs, peaking onto the deck with baited breath, readying himself for another tussle.

Only the sound of the ocean lashing the ship howled beneath the sliver of moon hanging crookedly on the sky. The deck was empty but for a few crewmates slumped lazily over crates, the empty bottle rolling at their feet foretelling their inebriated stupors. Thorin slowly climbed onto the deck, looking over the slumbering men as he passed. If any awoke, he could dispatch them as easily as the one below, though he would risk sending up the alert.

Thorin passed the last man stationed outside Azog’s cabin. He stirred briefly before he was incapacitated with the hilt of the slender sword. Thorin led the crewmate’s limp body to the boards noiselessly, listening for any disturbance in those around him. He hooked his sword through his belt and took the rifle which rest next to the man’s perch, checking that it was loaded before he approached the cabin door.

He listened, holding the firearm at the ready. He could hear Azog’s voice droning in a taunting manner. Y/N spoke weakly in response, a small whimper following at some unseen strike. Thorin’s body went rigid and he kept his rifle balanced as he reached with one hand to slowly press down the door latch. The door clicked open slightly, but no response sounded from within as Azog continued his interrogation.

Thorin stepped back, steadying the barrel of the gun and kicked the door open. Azog had Y/N across his desk, the blade of his arm hooked beneath the lace of her corset, several others already cleft. He turned in surprise to look at the intrusion, a sudden flash of recognition darkened his black eyes and Thorin pulled the trigger.

The bullet caught Azog in the center of his chest, he staggered slightly, turning towards Thorin with a roar. Y/N caught his bladed arm, bloodied palm sliding along the metal as she screamed and twisted it free. The curved sword disjointed from Azog’s truncated elbow and Y/N rolled away from him, turning the blade in her hand and slicing it across her tormentor’s stomach.

Azog stepped back stunned, gripping the large gash across his midriff desperately, his innards slipping sickeningly between his fingers. He fell onto his knees and Y/N slashed his throat with a barbaric cry, dropping the sword in distress as blood bubbled at Azog’s neck and he gargled appallingly. The pirate’s heavy form collapsed across the boards, his blood so dark it was nearly black.

Y/N held out her bloodied hands, several of her fingers visibly broken and both palms lacerated, the right even more than before. Her face was smear of crimson, two gashes across her cheekbones, her bottom lips swollen and split, both eyes blackened, and her hair hung in scarlet-coated shanks. Her corset hung-half open, her skirts torn and barely in tact. Y/N sunk to her knees beside Azog’s lifeless form and began to wail wildly.

Thorin looked behind him, the drunken crew undisturbed by the turmoil which had just unfolded. The fates must have changed course that night. He pulled closed the door before crossing to Y/N, setting aside his rifle as he knelt beside her. He pulled her trembling figure into his lap and held her as her sobs quieted and only the convulsions that wracked her body betrayed her distress. He had saved her, but just barely.


	32. Chapter 32

You found it difficult to quell your tears. Only moments ago, you had been certain of your death and Thorin’s to follow. It was instinct which had guided your hand in slaying Azog, yet the sight of his blood was the blow which shattered the glass. You collapsed in a fit of chaos, overwhelmed with rage, grief, and shock. You had not realized Thorin was holding you until your eyes were further swollen, and your injuries began to throb.

You shook as you pulled away from Thorin, standing with a groan as you tried to close the remains of your bodice. You nearly slipped as you stepped in the river of blood draining from Azog’s corpse but Thorin caught you before you could topple. You sniffed, trying to find what was left of your wits as you looked around at the ravaged cabin.

“Y/N,” Thorin held your arm as if afraid to let you go, “Are you alright?”

“There’s no time for that,” You rasped, clearing your throat as your voice came hoarse, “I doubt you’ve vanquished an entire crew of pirates.”

“Only two…and only for a time,” He replied with a sigh, “I suppose we’re only prolonging our fate.”

“Not entirely,” You raised a mangled hand, your ring and index fingers crooked and agonizing, “We must act quickly. No one else needs to die for Azog’s sins.”

“They are his men. They’ve taken part in his sins.”

“But now his reign is over,” You paused as you stared at your bloodied hand before continuing, “We’ve not many options…but I’ll think of something.”

“Ever scheming,” Thorin shook his head, for a moment, his face shone with admiration though the shadow of concern remained, “I can think of not but tragedy, so I must trust in you.”

“First, you must set my fingers,” You sat in the rigid chair behind the desk, “Then we gather supplies; fuses, powder, twine…we must work quickly and quietly.”

“Do you ever stop?” Thorin began to search the drawers.

“What do you mean?” You leaned back in the chair, a chill running across your bare legs.

“Minutes ago, you were consumed with tears…now you act as if the man who set you to them is not laying dead beneath your feet. Y/N,” He ceased his rifling to glance at you, his eyes coloured with worry, “It’s okay to just stop.”

“Not now, not if we want to live,” You stiffened, swallowing back another swell of tears building in your throat, “Now is not the time. The pain will remain tomorrow.”

Thorin shook his head and resumed his inspection, collecting several rags and scrounging various pens to fashion into splints. He sat beside you, delicately taking your hands one at a time. His tending was awkward, more so due to his improvised materials. He dampened a rag from a basin of tepid water left errant upon the table against the wall and wiped away the dried blood on your face. He did his best to clean away the remnants of your struggle, but he could not rid you of the torment within.

“I’ll take some rum before we begin,” You stood pointedly, “One last drink before our fate is to be decided.”

* * *

With Thorin’s help, you had gathered all necessary to take hold of The Barnacle. Upon your scavenging of the ship, you had woken several crewmates but disabled them before they could rouse further suspicion. Thorin had also found some clothing to replace your tattered rags; wool trousers, a cotton blouse, a plain jacket and salt-stained boots. You almost felt like yourself. Almost.

Lacking your usual dexterity, you instructed Thorin in his work, laying fuses, wrapping powder, laying the twine. The pirates who had happened upon you during your ranging of their ship were tied and gagged upon the deck waiting for the rest of their comrades to wake. As Thorin followed the map you had drawn haphazardly, planting the small packet of powder and cutting fuses, you hacked at what remained of Azog’s neck and set his head upon a spike in the center of the deck.

You sat with your rifle ready though you couldn’t be assured of your ability to pull the trigger. Thorin returned, taking his own firearm in hand as you took up sentinel either side of the slain captain’s head. Slowly, the rest of the crew awakened and soon nearly ever soul aboard the Barnacle lined the deck, staring at the two of you, their own weapons at the ready. The shock of what stood before them and the threat of your bullets held them at bay.

“You cannot kill all of us,” The boldest of the crew stepped forward, a pistol pointed at you, “You may have killed our captain, but it will not gain you purchase of this ship.”

“We have no desire for this vessel, only safe passage to the closest port,” You announced to a grumble of confusion and distrust, “Besides, the guns are not but a last resort. If we are to die, we will not do so without all of you.” You carefully lowered your rifle, raising a piece of flint in your hand awkwardly and striking it across the butt of your gun.

“If I light this charge,” You strode to the far rail, pointing out the near invisible fuse set into the wood, twine running along its length to the next, “Or any of the dozens placed throughout this ship, we will all perish. And if you choose to fire your guns so carelessly, this ship will go up even without my ignition.” You kept your voice steady, your nerves wild as you bluffed. Damage would be done but you could not be sure it would do more than send up smoke and shrapnel.

“Azog is dead because he was a murderer,” You neared the dead captain’s head with a spiteful sneer, “We do not hold you to account for his follies. We give you a choice: life or death? You can choose peace and live or you can follow your captain to his grave. What will it be?”

The crew’s murmur grew to a tantamount before the same pirate interrupted with a sharp whistle. He looked no less perturbed but lowered his pistol slowly, turning to his cronies who went silent at his glare. He must have been the second in command or close to. “What do we say? Azog’s life has been spent and our loyalty therefore is absolved. Shall we walk so blindly to our death’s or shall we live on?”

“How do we know they will not renege on their offer?” Another shouted and those around him chattered.

“Take us to the closest port and be done with us,” Thorin stated evenly, “Then the ship and whatever bounty remains to it is yours to do as you please. We have no desire for blood or gold. When you found us, we were stranded upon the tides with not but ourselves. That is how we intend on leaving you. With nothing more what we came with; our lives.”

The de facto leader looked around as the rest looked to each other, shrugs and nods accompanying a few ‘ayes’. “I think we’ve a deal, milady. Port is three days away. We’ll leave you there and you can take your powder and fuses with ye.”

“Your terms are acceptable, but for now the fuses remain,” You extinguished the flint with a flourish, “To insure our safe passage.”


	33. Chapter 33

“We should be at port by morning, milady,” The greasy haired crewmember called Vance announced with a bow.

Since the day the  _Barnacle_  had woken to the death of their former captain, he had stepped in to speak for the rest of his crew. He had been the man to step up up amongst the crowd when first confronted by the vicious pair of captives and was all too content to take over the vessel now free of Azog’s unbending grip.

Vance had also formed a fondness for you, to both your and Thorin’s chagrin. He came nearly every hour to offer an update and did so with obvious adoration. You and Thorin had kept yourselves confined to the cabin but for the occasional stroll across the deck, counting down the hours until port, pistols close at hand.

Azog’s head remained as a reminder to the crew of what you were capable of, and you checked the fuses hourly. The grimness of it all had further sunk the stone in your heart.  _Had you finally become what you loathed?_  You had inevitably been changed and the lack of empathy you had for taking a life troubled you.

“I’ve told you,” You said as you sat cross armed behind the desk, “Stop calling me that.”

“I’m sorry, mil—Y/N,” The pirate bit his tongue, “I only want you to be assured that me and my crew have kept our promises to you.”

“Thank you, Vance,” You replied with exasperation, “I appreciate your tidings, but it is late and we’ll have an early morning, as you said yourself.”

“Yes, yes, milady,” He did not seem to notice his slip as he began to back away from the desk, Thorin growling audibly from the corner, “I wish you a good night…” He glanced at Thorin hesitantly, keeping his head low, “And you, sir.”

“Good night,” You dismissed Vance before Thorin could grow any more riled. He left with another ridiculous bow and you let the tension flow from your body, “We’re almost there.”

Thorin gave no response, having fallen even more silent than the days you had first known him. You took the cracked mirror from atop the desk and looked at yourself in its warped glass. Your cheeks were scabbed, the sockets of your eyes discoloured, and your lip split down the middle. You barely recognized yourself.

You relinquished the glass clumsily, your disfigured hands making most tasks a chore. You stared at the door, the stirring of the current rocking the ship as the smell of salt permeated the cabin. You slumped in the chair, rubbing your forehead and sighed as another wave of melancholy overtook you. Despite your efforts, you found yourself sinking into listlessness, all strength sapped from your body as your mind took reign.

“Y/N,” You did not hear Thorin move but the plunk of a stool followed by a creak announced his approach. He touched the back of your hand delicately as he sat beside you, “We’re going to make it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” You mumbled, not bothering to lift your head, “Nothing matters…” You pulled your hand from beneath his, grazing your fingers along his sea-roughened skin.

Thorin said nothing, a tense silence rising as you languished in your self-pity. You raised your head at last, leaning it against the high back of the chair as you breathed out. You did not notice your tears until they turned cold upon your cheeks, stinging the tender gashes there. Thorin cradled your hand in his as he reached out to touch your shoulder, caressing it  as he watched your grief unfold.

“I was married once,” You spoke numbly, the past blinding you as your eyes lost sight of the dark cabin, “My father sold me to a Cornish goat herder for a meager stack of coins and a bottle of rye.” You could feel Thorin’s warmth, but the memories did not cease, “I was hopeful for the first day. I thought perhaps he could not be so bad as my father was, but he beat me just the same. Made me sleep in the barn with his goats when he did not desire me in his own.”

You sniffed as the tears poured from you. You had been running from your youth for so long that it felt as if the past was not but some vivid nightmare. “When my only dress wore down to rags, he tossed me a set of his own disused tatters. It was enough to keep the night chill from devouring me.”

“Once he brought home a man from the market, the stranger thought I was a stable boy when he saw me,” _How was it that you had come this far?_  “That’s when it came to me. I could become someone else. I could be a man and not worry about the disparity of womanhood. I left a fortnight after that. I stole his drinking money and disappeared.” The haze cleared, and you saw Thorin’s blue eyes glossy with moisture as he wiped away your sadness, “Truly, I did. I am not who I was then. Have not been…”

“You are you,” Thorin asserted as he brushed your hair away from your face, “And I’ve never met a soul braver nor greater than that before me.” His hand rested on your check, his thumb lightly tracing the cut with a sympathetic frown, “You deserve better. You deserve to be free.”

“I—When I shot Thranduil, I thought I owed it to him. I told myself it was just because of what he had done to me. He was just another man who had wronged me, but it did not last. It did not make me happy as I thought it would. But Azog,” You took Thorin’s hand between yours, unable to hold it for the splints, “I didn’t feel anything. When the blade bit into his flesh, there was no thought, no emotion. Just blood. And I didn’t care. I still don’t.”

“He was a vile monster, the world is better for his death,” Thorin assured, “We would be dead otherwise.”

“I do not regret it,” You confessed, looking away from Thorin, “But I regret what I’ve become. Heartless…as bad as he was.”

“No, never,” Thorin took your chin in his hand, firmly but gently forcing you to look at him, “Y/N, you are wounded but no undone. There is far to go but you will not be alone. I will not leave you.” He lowered his hand, pulling you from the chair and onto his lap, “Tomorrow we will make port and we’ll leave this life behind.” You rested your head on his shoulder as he spoke, “No more blood. No more death. Only us.”

You listened to his heart as he held you. You had not slept in the days since Azog’s death but at last, you closed your eyes and succumbed to the heavy darkness. The world around you faded and all that remained was the steady beating.


	34. Chapter 34

Thorin did his best not to wake Y/N as he moved her from atop his lap. He left her in the cabin across the single cot as he went about his nightly inspection. She did not rouse during his absence and he spent the early hours of the morning listening to her steady breath and the wails of nocturnal sea.

They met port that morning as Vance as predicted and the silver-tongued pirate bid Y/N a lengthy farewell before presenting her with some trinket he had discovered amid the loot aboard  _The Barnacle._  As they stomped down the ramp, she tossed the golden brooch into the water and walked along silently beside Thorin.  She had not said a word and did not but stare listlessly ahead of her.

They stopped beside a stall and Thorin bartered them a heel of bread and two bowls of indistinct gruel. With her hair tucked under a cap and her vague expression, Y/N looked like just another sailor. None would ever guess she was a tormented woman running from a life of torment and pain.

She gulped down her only meal without a sound and swigged from the lukewarm skin of water Thorin carried. He led them back to the docks,  _The Barnacle_  now a speck along the skyline. A merchant vessel had taken its place and Thorin nudged Y/N in its direction. Extra hands were rarely unwelcomed when the sea was often lethal. Those with experience found even swifter passage.

“You alright to work a little longer?” He asked Y/N as they found hammocks among the rabble, “ _The Fury_  should be waiting us at the next port as planned and from there, the world is ours.”

“Sure,” Her voice did not quaver or rise, it was an even monotone, “Makes no difference.”

“Y/N,” He whispered, and she looked to him sharply.

“James,” She corrected him, “Any of these louts overhear you and I’ll not make it through the night unmolested.”

“Sorry,” He looked around warily, “I promise, once we’re back with my men, we’ll set anchor for good and leave the sea behind.” He wanted so much to hold her as he had done the night before but her merely twitched and crossed his arms, “Elvenking is…dispensed of and Azog slain. We can leave it all behind.”

“I can’t keep lying to myself….it always comes back to me. Always,” She rubbed her hands together and sighed, “Someone or something will pull me back.”

“I’ll not let them,” Thorin swore, “You know I won’t.”

“Mmmm,” She shrugged and looked away, slipping into the hammock as it swung mildly, “Early morning.”

“Early morning,” He agreed dully, “Sleep well…James.”

“You, too,” She grumbled as she closed her eyes, “If sleep comes at all.”

* * *

How long would it be until you met yet another port? Walking down the gangway, your skin darkened from weeks in the sun and dried from the salt of the sea, you could see  _The Fury_  not far down the dock. No storm had struck and the wind had not died, but you were too cynical to call it luck. You would be back to sea as quickly as you landed and the waters would not remain peaceable for long.

Thorin was beside you as you walked along the line of vessels, paying the single navy ship little regard. It was not  _The Rose_  and you doubted you would meet Elvenking there. A familiar blonde head could be seen above the rail of  _The Fury_  and a clatter sounded on the ramp as a dark-blur barrelled down it. Kili nearly frightened you at how quickly he came to meet you.

“Uncle Thorin,” He seized Thorin but quickly pulled away, “I mean, Captain.”

“Nephew,” Thorin smiled at his kin, embracing him, “I am glad to see you.”

“Oi, Fi!” Kili called over his shoulder as he was released, “I think something terrible has happened to the captain! He’s acting…” He paused and looked back to Thorin, “Human.”

“You’re back,” Fili announced as he bounded down the plank, “At last.”

“We are,” Thorin hugged his other nephew and chuckled, “I missed you.”

“You’re right, Ki,” Fili side-eyed his brother, “There is something wrong with him.”

“You two!” You didn’t know what had come over you, but it was as if your sight had cleared and you were seeing for the first time, “Oh!” You squeezed them tighter than Thorin, pulling them together, “We made it!”

Something had snapped within, the ice having melted and the warmth returning to you. Life had bloomed before you as the shadow of death faded. You had not truly believed you would make it this far. Upon the isle, you were set to meeting your end opposite Elvenking and upon  _The Barnacle_ , your fate had been as good as sealed. And Thorin; you had dragged him through all that. Risked the only love you had known.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Fili asked as you separated from them, even more perplexed by you than his uncle.

“I’m just—” You paused as another figure appeared behind them, “Dwalin!”

You couldn’t help yourself as you pushed aside the brothers and strode towards the burly second mate. You grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks, leaving him stunned. “Tell the rest we’re here!”

“What in the—”

“And make haste. Have them prepare to depart with the week,” Thorin sounded like a captain again as he came up behind you, visibly amused by the confusion of his comrade. He touched your arm gently and kissed the top of your head, “You alright?” He whispered.

“I will be,” You took his hand in yours. It was as if you had forgotten his presence those last weeks, “I’ll try to be.”

“Where are we going, captain?” Dwalin asked.

“Well, I did promise my sister I’d eventually bring these two scamps back to her,” Thorin nodded over his shoulder, “We’re going home,” He turned to you, tilting his head, “Right?”

“Right,” You agreed, “Home.”

The word felt foreign on your lips but you were certain you’d come to know it well as long as Thorin was near.


End file.
